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BELLE 0’ BECKET’S LANE. 


AN AMERICAN NOVEL. 




JOHN BEATTY. 



f 


What tho’ on hamely fare we dine, 

Wear hodden-gray and a’ that; 

Gie fools their silks and knaves their wine, 


A man’s a man for a’ that. — Burns. 


PHILADELPHIA: 



J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
1883 . 


"PZ 3 

, IE > 5&oc>'£x 


Copyright, 1883, by J. B. Lippincott & Co. 


CONTEE'TS, 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — The Lane '5 

II. — The New Tenant 9 

III. — The Eaces 16 

IV. — Dr. McCray 21 

V. — The Trust 28 

VI.— The School 35 

VII. — Is THERE NO HOPE FOR BeCKET ? . . 42 

VIII. — Mrs. Captain Fithian at Home . . 49 

IX. — “ Thae Verra Mon She wadna Wed” . 63 

X. — “ I Say to You now, be Brave and Hope- 
ful” 69 

XI. — “I Loved the Girl as I have never 

SINCE Loved Woman” .... 77 

XII. — The Eesult of Mr. Jettings’s Inquiry . 86 

XIII. — “Good-Night” . .... . . .98 

XIV. — “We canna Part wi’ Her an’ We shall- 

NA” • . .110 

XV. — “Thank God for That” .... 120 

XVI. — Aunt Martha . . ' . . . .126 

XVII. — “I Propose to Surprise You with a Se- 
cret” . . . ' . . . . 132 

XVIII. — “ We shall Keep Her Pure” . . . 149 

XIX. — “If You bid Me do It” .... 158 

XX.— “Call Me Mark” , . . . .166 

XXI.— Good-By 175 

XXII. — “ Why, by Jove, this is our Mysterious 

Cousin” 183 

XXIII. — The Family Party 199 

XXIV. — Mr. Iredell concludes to Kemain in 

Washington another Week . . 209 

.3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XXV. — The Negotiation 

XXVI. — “Ye Maun Bear thae Burthen Bravely" 

XXVII. — Centre Church 

XXVIII. — The Hazel Thicket 

XXIX. — The Fishers . . . . ’ . 

XXX. — The Stranger from County Forfar 

XXXI. — Sir Saunders McNab 

XXXII. — “ Come Back in Twelve Months and I 

WILL tell You” 

XXXIII. — The New Missus 

XXXIV. — The Quarrel Culminates . . . . 

XXXV. — “Ye Shallna Leave Us in this Way, 
Mon” . 


PAGE 

220 

234 

245 

254 

266 

276 

284 

296 

805 

313 


. 323 


THE BELLE 0’ BECKET’S LANE. 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE LANE. 

Standing on a little elevation of the Becket farm, 
not abrupt enough to be called a knoll, the 6ye was 
confronted on the north by a dense forest of great trees 
untouched by the axe of the pioneer. Towards the 
east the line of vision passed above clusters of second- 
growth timber and numerous patches of hazel and briber 
to the level and weedy marsh-lands ; beyond these was 
the inlet or bay, and still farther away through the 
evergreen foliage of a narrow peninsula could be 
caught glimpses of the glassy surface of a great lake. 
On the south was a slightly undulated prairie, dotted 
here and there with groups of hickory, walnut, and 
oak, interspersed with thorn, wild plum, and crab. To 
the west, and encroaching on the prairie-land somewhat, 
were enclosed and cultivated fields. Running diagon- 
ally from southwest to northeast was a stream which, 
after rippling through the prairie and wooded lands, 
wound its way leisurely through the marsh, and finally 
1 * 6 


6 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


emptied into the inlet, and so found communication 
with the lake. 

The public liighway, but a few rods distant, bounded 
the Becket homestead on the east, and intersecting this 
at right angles was a narrow lane which ran through 
the place from east to west, as if to render more obvi- 
ous, if possible, the line separating forest from prairie ; 
near the junction of the private way with the public 
thoroughfare stood a large double log cabin, and to the 
south and west of this was the spot from which the 
spectator has made this very general and brief survey 
of the scene around him. Along the lane referred to, 
and so far from the main road as to be hidden by 
groups of intervening trees, was a number of comfort- 
able cabins designed originally for the accommodation 
of laborers, mechanics, or such other persons, perhaps, 
as might promise a rental, or otherwise 'prove advan- 
tageous to the estate. This was known as Becket’s 
Lane. The character of its houses was not such as 
to invite the better class of tenants even in that new 
country. They were quiet places, however, and near 
enough to a growing neighborhood and prospective city 
to be readily filled. The occupants were generally of 
a migratory class, who would settle down in the fall 
and decamp in the following summer. Their habits 
of dissipation, shiftless mode of life, and rough deport- 
ment excluded them from social recognition, and almost 
from all communication with the better people, and thus 
left them isolated and strangers, as it were, in a com- 
paratively populous neighborhood. In short, a resi- 
dence in Becket’s Lane was regarded as prima facie 


THE LANE. 


7 


evidence of dishonesty, and its people were therefore 
scrutinized very closely by the proprietors of the ad- 
jacent farms. 

In the lane there could usually be found shoemakers 
who cobbled during the winter months ; carpenters who 
performed odd jobs in a rough way ; tailors who could 
cut a garment, and with the assistance of their wives 
and daughters put it together ; sailors who during the 
winter season remained with their families, and in sum- 
mer followed their vocation on the water ; and others 
who chopped cord- wood, quarried stone, or turned their 
hands to anything which might offer in the way of un- 
skilled labor. 

The proprietor of this farm was Thomas Becket. 
His father had given him the place with his blessing, 
but neither the land nor the blessing had ever seemed 
to do him any good. He was popularly known as old 
Tom Becket, for the reason, perhaps, that he was sup- 
posed to be old in sin, in dissipation, in perverseness 
of spirit and hardness of heart, or possibly the settlers 
in that new region, having found Becket there when 
they arrived, dubbed him old because he was the most 
prominent of the older inhabitants. At any rate, he 
was so old that few of his neighbors remembered the 
time when he had been entirely sober. They could 
recollect very well when he had the delirium tremens ; 
when his horses ran away with him and pitched him 
headlong into a ditch ; when he was beaten black and 
blue while interfering in a drunken row for the pro- 
tection of a boon companion ; when he was last picked 
up on the public highway so utterly drunk as to be 


8 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET'S LANE, 


unconscious. All this they remembered well, and 
talked about very freely; but they were wholly un- 
aware of any sensible thing that old Tom had ever 
done; in fact, there was probably no such thing to 
be recalled, for his neighbors were not disposed to 
do him injustice. There was a rumoc, faint, indeed, 
and sadly in need of corroborating evidence, and gen- 
erally disbelieved, that old Tom had been a sprightly, 
educated, handsome boy, but — and of this there could 
be no doubt — he had early in life fallen into bad com- 
pany, and very rapidly gone to the dogs. He could 
do nothing moderately ; that is to say, he was always 
in haste. Whether driving, working, or drinking, it 
was done at high speed, and he was never known 
to be perfectly quiet and contented except when thor- 
oughly drunk. Nobody ever accused him of doing a 
selfish act : it was even suspected that he had at times 
been generous. None at least questioned his integrity. 
There were periods when he almost wholly disappeared 
from the public eye, but whether at such times he was 
lying in his cabin stupefied by liquor, or occupying 
himself with the affairs of his farm, few, if any, of his 
more thrifty and industrious neighbors took the trouble 
to inquire. He was unmarried. There was a rumor, 
having, probably, no foundation in fact, that there had 
been a time when he could have married any girl within 
a radius of fifty miles ; but now it was quite certain he 
could not have found a woman within double that area 
who would think for a moment of allying herself to him 
in a relation so sacred. And yet old Tom Becket was 
not by any means as old as Methuselah ; his hair was 


THE NEW TENANT. 


9 


still brown, bis eyes, when not bloodshot, a soft and 
tender hazel, his form stalwart, his teeth perfect, his 
voice mellow and rich ; but it had been at least ten 
years since decent people had stopped to think at all 
of old Tom’s natural advantages. His associates were 
mostly, entirely, perhaps, those of Becket’s Lane ; and 
these, profiting by his habits of dissipation, were not at 
all anxious to do anything to reclaim him. This task 
of reformation, however, it is safe to say, was an im- 
possible one, so that his rollicking associates did well 
to waste no time on it. 


CHAPTEK II. 

THE NEW TENANT. 

On an October afternoon a light-covered wagon, 
with a pair of led horses following behind it, drew up 
in front of Becket’s gate : a negro lad, springing nim- 
bly from the driver’s seat, ran toward the house, and, 
to an old man who sat smoking on a bench near the 
entrance, said, — 

Massa tole me for to ax Massa Becket ter step ter 
de road, if he pleases.” 

Wha’s ye’r master?” the old man asked, in a broad 
Scotch accent. 

Massa Huntly, sah.” 

Huntly,” he muttered, thoughtfully, as if trying to 
recall a name which had perhaps temporarily escaped 


10 THE BELLE O' BECHET’S LANE. 

his memory. Where does Mr. Huntly live, an' 
what’s his business?” 

^^Kaintucky, sah,” replied the boy; and then misin- 
terpreting the scope of the further inquiry, he con- 
tinued, he am de owner of Sleepy Jake and de South’n 
Belle, sah.” 

“ He is on his way till the races ?” 

^^Yas,sah.” 

Tell him Mr. Becket is ill an’ canna see him noo.” 

As the boy was turning to obey, a tall, bright appearing 
man of middle age called out peremptorily from the 
roadside, — 

Is Becket at home ?” 

He is, sir ; but he is na weel,” responded the old 
man. 

Ah, yes, I know,” replied the stranger, in a tone 
which indicated that he suspected the nature of Becket’s 
illness. Tell him Major Huntly is here, and would 
be pleased to see him.” 

The request was preferred in an authoritative and 
insolent way not at all agreeable to the inde})endent 
spirit of the Scotchman; but repressing the feeling of 
anger which flashed for a moment in his gray eyes, he 
turned without further words to carry the message to 
his employer. 

It required considerable shaking to arouse old Tom 
from his drunken stupor; but finally, with swollen eye- 
lids and flushed face, he came to the door and stood 
rather unsteadily on his legs confronting his visitor. 

“ How ah’ yo’, Becket?” said Major Huntly, extend- 
ing his hand. 


THE NEW TENANT 


11 


— pretty well, sir ” 

Yo’ recollect me, Becket?” 

Perhaps I should,’^ Becket responded, in a doubtful 
way ; but I do not/^ 

am Major Huntly, sah. Yo^ won a hundred 
dollars at the races last fall on my mare. Yo’ suahly 
have not forgotten that, sah.’^ 

Did I win said Becket, stupidly. 

“ Certainly yo^ did.” 

Well, that was lucky; but — but of course some must 
win where so many lose.” 

I have a sick wife in the wagon who needs a quiet 
place and a little nursing. Can yo’ give me a house in 
the lane for a week or two ?” 

Becket was silent for a moment, then turned with a 
questioning look to the old man. 

Number sax, sir.” 

^'Put ^im in six, Crandall. Where is Mrs. Cran- 
dall?” 

Here, sir,” responded a gray-haired woman, who 
now appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. , I beg pardon,” began Becket, turning 

to the stranger. 

Major Huntly, sir.” 

‘^The major’s wife is indisposed. Make her com- 
fortable, — as comfortable as you can, Mrs. Crandall.” 

There ah’ three of us, — wife and daughter,” inter- 
posed the major. 

‘^No matter; Mrs. Crandall will take care of you.” 
Then turning to the old man, he continued, Have 
bedding, furniture, and food sent to number six.” Di- 


12 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


rectiDg the colored boy to follow with the wagon, Major 
Huntly walked on with Crandall up the lane. 

Becket, now thoroughly awake, re-entered the house, 
and taking his rifle from the buckshorn bracket on 
which it had rested, reappeared in the yard a moment 
after, and with rapid strides went across the fields to- 
ward the heavily wooded lands. Roughly clad as he 
was, and showing plainly as he did the evidences of 
})rolonged dissipation, he possessed still a manliness of 
form and dignity of bearing not often seen, and always 
certain to attract attention. Beared in idleness, and in 
the belief also that his inheritance would at least ren- 
der him independent, with little in that new country to 
stimulate ambition, and so lead him to better things, he 
had fallen an easy prey to those habits and associations 
which demoralize and finally brutify the best of natures. 
No one realized more fully than himself that his life 
was a profitless one, and he had time and again prom- 
ised to do better in the future ; but these good resolu- 
tions had been so often vanquished by temptation that 
in his more rational moments he had come to abandon 
all hope of his own redemption. On reaching the brook, 
which here wound its way between gentle slopes, and 
under the shadow of great trees, he slackened his pace, 
and walked observantly up the stream ; he was an 
expert marksman, and in less than an hour had se- 
cured all the game he desired ; but still following 
the brook, he soon came to an area of open ground 
near the centre of which there was a bubbling spring, 
whose surplus water had cut its way through the shal- 
low soil, and went trickling over its bed of smooth 


TEE NEW TENANT. 


13 


limestone to the creek. A girl, probably twelve, and 
possibly a year or two older, was bending over the 
spring ; as she resumed an erect position with a drip- 
ping pitcher in her hand, Becket observed that the 
face was new to him, and that the girl was tall and 
fair. He noticed, also, that she was startled by the 
suddenness of his appearance, and for the purpose of 
removing from her mind any apprehension of personal 
danger, he said, softly, — 

Good-morning, young lady.^’ 

Regarding him steadily for a moment, she responded 
to the salutation, and having apparently recovered from 
her alarm, Becket continued, — 

You are a stranger here?’’ 

Yes,” the girl said, sadly ; I am a stranger every- 
where.” 

Indeed !” Becket exclaimed, looking into her brown 
eyes. Can that be so ?” 

It is. Mamma says that for fifteen years she has 
never had a home, and surely I have never known 
what could be called one.” 

^^Your idea of a home may be peculiar, my girl. 
Many people, indeed, insist that this world is not our 
home ; that we simply find temporary shelter here, as 
the traveller does at the wayside inn.” 

I mean nothing of the kind, sir,” the girl responded, 
quickly. The world is good enough, and there are 
happy people in it and pleasant homes. Oh, I know 
what a home is, sir, though it has never been my good 
fortune to enjoy one.” 

Well, well !” Becket said. You are still young, 
2 


14 


THE BELLE O' BECKETS LANE. 


the world is wide, and I trust you are right in think- 
ing it is good. Do not allow the past to throw any 
shadow upon the present.’^ And then, as if forgetting 
himself temporarily, he continued, in a tone full of re- 
morseful bitterness, Great God ! the present, — the 
difficulty, indeed, is there, — is in taking care of the 
passing hour.’^ 

The appealing, sorrowing helplessness suggested by 
his voice, rather than his words, touche<l the young 
girFs heart, and she looked into his face with an ex- 
pression of surprise and tenderness ; but Becket, recov- 
ering from his momentary abstraction, added, softly, — 
You have not been long here 
Oh, no ; we came to-day.’^ And then, with the 
frankness of childhood, she continued, — Papa said 
he was broke, and must get such quarters as he could. 
The fact is, he is generally broke, but just now he is 
dead broke, and at such times we have to be content 
to go anywhere, to get in where we can. And in this 
way we have been going, going, for years and years, 
sometimes living in hotels, sometimes in lodgings, some- 
times in the wagon upon the road, but never staying long 
in any place. Just now we are over there in BeckeFs 
Lane. Do you know old Tom Becket, sir ?” 

“ Nobody knows him ; he does not even know him- 
self.^^ 

Well, that is strange,’^ the girl said, with a laugh, 
and then went on. Papa said he was a drunken, 
careless fellow, who would not care much whether he 
got pay for keeping us or not. Mamma thought it a 
shame to impose on anybody in that way, but then they 


THE NEW TENANT 


15 


never agree about matters of this sort, and she always 
yields ; in fact, she cannot help herself, for papa says 
we must live; his horses cannot be expected to win 
every race, and when he is out of money what can he 
do ? He is generous enough when he has money, and 
we spend it freely at such times, but it is very seldom 
he has any to boast of, and the life is a rough and un- 
certain one.’’ 

They had by this time crossed the stile which afforded 
an easy access to the lane, and soon thereafter came to 
a rough but comfortable log cabin. The girl, stopping 
here, turned as if to say good-by to her companion, but 
he walked by her toward the house, and emptying his 
bag of gray squirrels on the door-stone, said, — 

Request Major Huntly to be good enough to accept 
these.” 

From whom ?” 

‘^Old Tom Becket.” 

The young girl’s face flushed deeply for a moment, 
but finding nothing but kindly gentleness in old Tom’s 
eyes, she broke into a merry laugh, and said, — 

Thank you.” 

No, no ; it is nothing.” 

« Forgive me.” 

I shall do that if I find anything to forgive.” 


16 


THE BELLE 0’ BECHETS LANE. 


CHAPTEE III. 

THE RACES. 

From early morning until noon men on foot, on 
horseback, in heavy wagons, and lighter vehicles were 
passing Becket’s house on their way to Eockboro’. Nor 
were there men only ; many women, with a view, per- 
haps, to doing a little marketing in the town, or making 
purchases, or being present on the race-course, were 
accompanying their fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers. 
Long before midday a great crowd had assembled on a 
broad level field near the village, and not far from the 
shore of the inlet. The race track had been prepared 
with much care; it described a circle as nearly as the 
engineering skill then available could make it. Men 
were examining the horses and discussing the various 
estimates put upon their racing qualities, wagers in a 
small way were being freely offered and taken. Of all 
this, however, it is unnecessary to speak in detail ; our 
story is simply interested in two or three of the par- 
ticipants in this affait*. Becket had supplied Huntly 
with the means to enter his horses, hoping, if indeed 
he thought of the matter at all, that the major would 
at least succeed in getting second money, and so be 
enabled to repay the loan. 

Huntly’s mare was well known on this course, and 
a favorite. The quality of her wind and muscle had 


THE RACES. 


17 


been tested tlie previous fall. She had then won a run- 
ning race with apparent ease, and her owner felt con- 
fident of her ability to succeed in the present contest; 
but he was always sanguine, and when in liquor boast- 
ful and insolent. 

They can’t beat her,” he said to Becket. 

The judges will determine that.” 

“ Perhaps yo’ think she will be beaten,” retorted 
Huntly, angrily. 

‘^Not at all. I think she may be, but hope she will 
not,” replied Becket, coolly, for he was steadier in mind 
and body on this occasion than usual. 

Well, if I had a thousand I’d risk it on her to-day. 
Hello ! here comes Cruthers.” 

The man referred to was slight of body, wiry and 
active, his face clean cut, smoothly shaven, and expres- 
sionless. Glancing at Huntly’s mare, he said, in a 
sharp, exasperating tone, — 

You must be content with second money to-day, 
major.” 

No. I shall win the first.” 

How much do you want to put up on that ?” 

A thousand, if I had it.” 

‘^But how much have you? How much dare you 
risk ?” 

The mare against a thousand dollars.” 

“ She’s not worth it.” 

Against five hundred.” 

Too much still.” 

Two hundred and fifty.” 

“ I’ll take it.” 
b 


2 * 


18 


THE BELLE O' BECKET'S LANE. 


Now, I’ll put up Sleepy Jake against another two 
hundred and fifty,” said Huntly. 

ni take that also. If you come in second, who 
in that case will take second money ; you or I ?” per- 
sisted Cruthers, coolly. 

^Qt will be mine, of course; but I will put it up 
against a hundred.” 

That is only a chance ; there may be more than two 
entries. You may not make it ; the bet would not be 
an even one.” 

Very well ; put yo’r own valuation on the chance, 
and stake fifty against it, if you dare.” 

^^Done.” 

As Cruthers walked briskly away, after making a 
note of his bets with Huntly, Becket said, — 

“ You will either make a spoon or spoil a horn to- 
day, major.” 

I shall make a spoon.” 

What do you know of Cruthers’s horse ?” 

Only that he was beaten at Nashville by a gelding 
that in the fall before was distanced by my mare at 
Lexington.” 

His horse is young, and may have improved.” 

‘^Yes; and he may not,” replied Huntly, sneer- 
ingly. Yo’ need feel no uneasiness, Becket, about the 
little money yo’ have advanced to me.” 

I beg pardon ; I had not thought of that. If my 
solicitude for your success is annoying, I shall leave. 
Good-morning, major.” 

Huntly, on second thought, regretted that the offen- 
sive words had escaped him, and called after Becket, 


THE RACES. 


19 


asking him to return; but the latter, either not hearing 
him, or not caring to have more to do with him on tliis 
occasion, walked away. Three hours later in the day 
old Donald Crandall, finding Becket near one of the 
refreshment booths in a drunken stupor, succeeded in 
getting him into the farm- wagon and carrying him 
home. 

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the two 
horses that were to participate in the running race were 
led up to the judges’ stand. Huntly was feeling ex- 
tremely well, for in the trotting contest just concluded 
Sleepy Jake had come in easily for the second prize, all 
his owner had expected him to do. The mare appeared 
to be in splendid condition, and the negro boy who was 
to ride her stood in scarlet cap and jacket ready for the 
order to mount. Cruthers, being a light man, proposed 
to ride his own horse, and was there also awaiting in- 
structions. The judges having, after some delay, set- 
tled all the preliminaries usual to such occasions, the 
riders took their seats, and the signal to start was given. 

It was a mile track, and the first heat consumed less 
than two minutes. It was a close race, Huntly’s mare 
coming in only a neck ahead. After the customary 
delay for rest and grooming, the horses were started 
again, and continued apparently neck and neck to the 
half-mile post, when, for some cause not discernible 
to the excited spectators, Huntly’s mare suddenly lost 
ground, and Cruthers led her under the pole by a full 
length. 

The negro boy at once approached the judges’ stand 
with tears in his eyes, and affirmed with great earnest- 


20 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET'S LAJSE. 


ness that Crutliers, whose horse was considerably larger 
and heavier than the mare, had intentionally ridden 
against him, and thus thrown him behind; but Cru- 
thers with equal solemnity denied the charge, and in- 
sisted that he had won the heat fairly. Huntly, ex- 
cited and angry, encouraged by the crowd, with whom 
the mare was a favorite, now thrust himself forward, 
declaring, with much needless profanity, that there 
were hundreds of men on the ground who had wit- 
nessed the collision, and who would corroborate the 
boy’s statement under oath ; but Cruthers, in no wise 
intimidated by the boisterous and abusive language of 
his competitor, with the utmost coolness held his whip 
toward the judges as if to secure their attention, and 
reiterated that the heat had been fairly won, and that 
they should in justice render a decision in his favor. 
His quiet self-possession was admirable, and under other 
circumstances would have made him a hero. Huntly 
flooded him with offensive epithets, the spectators jeered 
and ridiculed him as a detected cheat; but with no per- 
ceptible quickening of the blood, twitch of muscle, or 
tremor of voice, the little man continued to prefer his 
claim as if unconscious of either the violent language 
of his rival, or the clamorous denunciations of those 
around him. His imperturbable calmness was far more 
irritating to Huntly than if he had retorted with the 
most vindictive abuse, for it indicated the presence of 
a feeling of mental or moral superiority, which could 
afford to treat Jiis opponent’s utterances with contempt. 

Finally, prompted by the violence of his passions, 
his fear of utter ruin in case of defeat, or the encour- 


DR. McCRAY. 


21 


agement of the mob, Hiintly sprang forward, struck 
his competitor a staggering blow in the face, and in 
another moment lay dead with a bullet in his heart. 
Had Cruthers now manifested the slightest trepidation, 
he would have been seized by the mob and torn to 
pieces. But he did not. Still holding the smoking 
weapon in his hand, he lifted his cap by way of salu- 
tation to the judges, turned on his heel, and, the crowd 
opening before him, walked deliberately to his horse, 
mounted leisurely, and rode slowly away. Strange as 
it may seem, he was neither followed nor subsequently 
punished. There is nothing more cowardly than a 
mob, nothing more stupid, and, when it has little if 
anything to fear, nothing more merciless. 


CHAPTER lY. 

DE. McCRAY. 

After the murderer had gotten fairly away there 
sprang up on all hands an amazing number of men who 
would have torn him limb from limb had they been 
near enough when the fatal shot was fired to have 
grappled with him. The ease with which he might 
have been captured was apparent to all. They were 
astonished, indeed, that he should have been permitted 
to escape. The culpability of those who witnessed the 
perpetration of the crime, and made no effort to arrest 


22 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


the criminal, was commented upon with bitterness. 
But, in truth, the men who were most censorious on this 
occasion were those whose consciences were the most 
active in accusing them of failure to discharge a solemn 
duty. Cruthers was the only one in that vast assembly 
who could look death squarely in the face and defy it. 
Many would have ventured a bruise, some would even 
have risked an ugly wound, but he only was ready to 
put life, — eternity, if need were, to hazard, — and so they 
had cowered before the majesty of courage, — before that 
cool, resolute, decisive, reckless spirit, which is prepared 
on the instant to stake the infinite against the finite. 

A half hour after the homicide, Ben Hears, a 
Becket’s Lane man, and an eye-witness of the scene 
described, and the negro lad who had served Major 
Huntly in the capacity of servant and rider, came dash- 
ing up the road on Sleepy Jake and the Belle. As they 
wheeled rapidly into the lane Mr. Crandall hailed them, 
for he inferred from their haste that something unusual 
had taken place. Hears drew in his horse, and began 
in an excited and confused way to give a detailed ac- 
count of the affair. Crandall, however, suddenly inter- 
rupted him by shouting, — 

Stop the lad ! He wull kill the woman ! She is 
verra ill.^^ 

But Hears was slow to apprehend the full significance 
of old Donald’s speech, and therefore hesitated. 

^^Bide after the lad, I tell ye; dinna let him break 
the sair news till the wife abruptly. Gang awa’ wi’ 
ye !” 

Hears, giving Sleepy Jake a touch of the whip, went 


DR. MCCRAY. 


23 


up the lane with the speed of the wdnd ; but the boy 
was also going rapidly. Full of the shocking story 
he had to tell, conscious only that it would be of deep- 
est interest to the family, and in his ignorance oblivious 
to its possible efiect upon a woman enfeebled by a long 
period of anxiety, recent exposure, and a raging fever, 
the boy hurried on ; and although Mears astonished the 
women and children of the lane as he passed tliem 
at full speed, shouting like a madman to attract the 
lad’s attention, his elforts were unsuccessful, for when 
he dashed up to the door of number six the boy had 
already entered the house, and the shrieks of the mother 
and sobbing wail of the daughter told him that the 
terrible calamity had been revealed with the sudden- 
ness of an electric shock. -As he turned to leave, with 
a heart rebuking him for his own thoughtless stupidity, 
Mrs. Crandall came to the door with her apron to her 
eyes, and calling him back to her, whispered, — 

Tell Donald to send for Dr. McCray at once ; the 
woman is delirious, and I fear will die.” 

Mears carried this message to Crandall, and then, 
with old Donald’s consent, found some comfort in seek- 
ing the doctor. With all his ignorance and thought- 
lessness, Mears was a man of good impulses. He had 
himself suggested to the negro boy that it would be 
well to notify the family of the major’s death, and he 
felt that he was, to some extent, at least, responsible for 
the effect produced by its abrupt announcement. He 
lost no time, therefore, on the way, and the good doc- 
tor, always prompt to obey the summons of the dis- 
tressed, whether they j^romised remuneration or not, 


24 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECHET’S LANE. 


saddled his horse, and with the simple remedies of a 
country practitioner in that early time, hastened towards 
Bechet’s Lane. The morning had been clear, but dur- 
ing the afternoon the sky became overcast, and now 
scurrying clouds and a rising wind presaged a night 
of darkness and storm, but these received little attend 
tion from Dr. McCray ; when human life was in peril 
he had neither the time nor inclination to think of his 
own comfort. His medical school had been largely 
that of experience, and his main reliance was roots and 
herbs, which, if they did no good, worked no injury to 
the patient, and afforded nature an opportunity to re- 
pair her own handiwork. But medical skill of even a 
higher order than that possessed by Dr. McCray could 
have accomplished little in this case, and after reach- 
ing the house he was quick to discover that he could 
do no more than render the last hours of life less pain- 
ful than without his aid they would have been. 

Mrs. Crandall and Mears’s wife stood by the bedside 
of the dying woman, watchful and willing. To them, 
after a careful examination of the patient, the doctor 
gave his final instructions. As he was leaving the 
house Mears, who had been on the outside awaiting his 
appearance, said, in a tone indicative of anxiety and 
alarm, — 

How is she, doctor ?” 

She will never be any better, Ben, till she gets to 
heaven.” 

But— but,” Ben said, timidly, ‘^do you think the 
tidings of the major’s death is what has hurt her, sir?” 

The shock may shorten her life somewhat, but not 


DR. MCCRAY. 


25 


much. She could not have lived much longer : a straw 
would have knocked her over. She is worn out.^^ 

You think, then,’^ persisted Ben, that the shock 
did not do it ; that she would have gone anyway ; that 
it did not hasten the end much, — not very much - 
Not much, Ben ; possibly not at all.’^ 

Thank God Ben exclaimed, reverently. I 
should never have forgiven myself if it had.’^ 

The night had by this time grown intensely dark ; 
gusts of wind, forerunners of the approaching storm, 
swept fiercely across the prairie, and, striking the for- 
est on the north, filled the air with the creak and roar 
of trembling trees and swaying branches. The lane 
was narrow, and the doctor’s eyes not so good as they 
had been in early manhood. Although anxious to 
make as much speed as possible, and so avoid a 
drenching rain, he thought it prudent to give his 
horse the bridle, and allow him to jog along at his 
own gait. When nearing the public highway the doc- 
tor’s attention was attracted first by a moving light in 
the vicinity of Becket’s house, then by a confused mur- 
mur of voices, and finally by shadowy forms moving 
unsteadily about the lawn. He stopped for a moment 
to look upon the weird spectacle. A half-dozen 
drunken men were endeavoring to remove some ob- 
ject from a farm Avagon, just what, he could not, in 
the uncertain light of a single lantern, clearly dis- 
cover. He recognized the staggering form of old Tom 
Becket, Avho, Avith a solemnity of voice that would 
have been creditable to a bishop, Avas doing his ut- 
most to govern the movements of those about him ; 


26 


THE BELLE O' BECHET’S LA HE. 


but as Becketts companions could not altogether con- 
trol themselves, liowever desirous they might be of 
doing so, his task was one of considerable difficulty. 
They talked incessantly, and their conversation was 
plentifully emphasized and enlivened by profanity and 
laughter. But to Becket’s credit it may be observed, 
in passing, that he never indulged in an oath, and 
rarely gave way to boisterous mirth. So long as he 
could stand erect he maintained, to some extent, at 
least, the dignified and manly bearing of a gentleman. 

Dixon, Cronin,’’ said Becket, ^^get in and lift the 
major up.” 

After many unsuccessful attempts, the two men in- 
dicated finally succeeded in getting into the wagon. 

Now Crocker, now Beck, take hold ; gently, boys, 
gently. Keep silent, men; respect the dead. Help, 
Rucker. There, now, carry him to the house. Some 
one in time must perform a similar service for us all ; 
let us, therefore, do it decently and in order.” 

Becket, holding the lantern high above his head, 
walked unsteadily in advance, while those clustered 
around the ghastly burden staggered about the lawn as 
if uncertain as to which particular point of the com- 
pass they proposed to bear down upon. They finally 
reached the door and disappeared. 

Dr. McCray now left his saddle, and, hitching his 
horse, walked up to the house, and presented himself 
at the open door. The corpse had been deposited on 
a narrow plank supported by stools. The men who 
placed it there were standing about a table in the act 
of drinking. Becket had raised his glass to his lips, 


DR. McCRAY. 27 

but hearing a rap on the door-jamb, he set it down 
untasted, and turning, bade the doctor welcome. 

“Tom,’^ said the doctor, solemnly, ‘^come out. I 
desire a word with you in private.’’ 

Certainly, certainly. Dr. McCray ; but may I not 
first extend to you the poor hospitalities of my house ?” 

Not now ; not to-night, my friend.” 

Tom,” Dr. McCray said, as they stood together in 
the yard, I have a favor to ask.” 

Name it. Dr. McCray. It is granted now.” 

You are called upon to perform a solemn duty.” 

I know ; I know.” 

But not all ; the poor man’s widow will be buried 
with him.” 

Indeed ! Was she so dangerously ill as that ?” 

She was and is. Now the favor I ask is that you 
will not taste another drop until this sad ceremony is 
performed.” 

So help me God, I will not.” 

Tom,” continued the doctor, in a voice quivering 
with emotion, I was present at your birth. I have 
known you, boy and man, for thirty years. I have 
loved you as a father loves his son. I know your 
weakness, and I know your strength also ; and I still 
look hopefully forward to the time ” 

No, no,” cried Becket, pitifully. I have tried. 
I cannot.” 

When you will look higher ” 

“ God knows I would if I could.” 

And live better ” 

Oh, Dr. McCray, have mercy on me.” 


28 


THE BELLE O' BECHET’S LANE. 


no. You must ask God to do that. He will 
do it, Tom. He is even now begging you to accept 
His outstretched hand, and consent to be lifted from 
the horrible pit into which you have fallen.” 

My God !” cried Becket, sobbing. 

He hears you, my son. Take courage ; you will 
yet be free.” 


CHAPTEK y. 

THE TRUST. 

From the hour when Dr. McCray left until about 
midnight Mrs. Huntly’s delirium continued ; then the 
fever abated, and she sank into a quiet slumber, which 
afforded her attendants much encouragement. In the 
gray of the morning, however, she awoke again, very 
weak indeed in body, but with an unclouded intellect. 
To Mrs. Crandall, who was sitting by the bedside, she 
said, — 

“ I fear I shall not live.” 

Don’t say that,” Mrs. Crandall replied. ^^You 
are very much better than you were.” 

“ No ; I think not, — I am sure not.” 

Well, well, take courage; let us hope for the best.” 

It matters little to me, but my child ; what will 
become of her ?” 

Never fear for her ; she will be cared for. If she 
has not friends elsewhere, she will find them here.” 


THE TRUST. 


29 


She has no friends elsewhere. I have no friends 
elsewhere. I have been a wanderer for fifteen years. 
I made a grave mistake. I see it now. I saw it years 
and years ago ; but it is too late, — has long been too 
late to rectify it.’^ 

“ Be hopeful,^’ said Mrs. Crandall, gently. We all 
make mistakes. I feel quite sure there is a better day 
coming for you.” 

“ No, no. I tried for that better day thirteen years 
ago, with my babe in my arms ; but they told me I 
had disregarded their wishes, married a disreputable 
profligate, disgraced my family, and must be content to 
lie in the bed of my own choosing. With curses ring- 
ing in my ears, the door was shut in my face. I have 
never been back since, — have never even permitted 
their names to pass my lips, and shall not. I would 
not have a child of mine, the child of my worst enemy, 
even, undergo the torture of such humiliation. She 
were better dead. It is easier to die.” 

Mrs. Crandall begged her to rest, and try to sleep 
again ; but in a few minutes the anxious mother, look- 
ing up wistfully and hopefully, asked, — 

Have you a child ?” 

‘^No.” 

Mrs. Crandall, divining the thought which the other 
hasitated to utter, said, softly, — 

Would you give me yours?” 

Thanks. I would.” 

I am poor.” 

But are you willing ? 

^aam.” 


3 * 


30 


THE BELLE O’ BECHETS LANE. 


Enough. It is terrible, I know, to be poor and 
wicked ; but the bliss of honest poverty is great.” 

The storm of the night had passed away ; the sun 
was risen now, — risen clear and bright, and with its 
first cheerful beams Becket and old Donald came 
stealing softly into the sick woman’s room. The 
daughter, with pallid face, stood weeping by the bed ; 
Mrs. Crandall was there also, and the dying mother, 
taking their hands and laying them together, looked 
sharply into old Donald’s eyes, and then into those of 
his good wife, and said, — 

Your daughter.” 

Donald answered, reverently, Afore the gude God, 
we accept the trust.” 

And old Tom Becket, laying one hand on Donald’s 
shoulder, and raising the other to heaven, said, sol- 
emnly, — 

It shall be honestly and generously kept.” 

A gleam of quiet satisfaction lighted up the mother’s 
dark eyes, but she did not speak again. When a few 
hours later her pulse dropped, and she ceased to breathe, 
the careworn, suffering look which had become habitual 
to her in life entirely disappeared, and her face was 
mantled with an expression of calm repose, suggestive 
of content and happiness. 

Intrusting to Crandall and his wife such immediate 
preparations for the pending ceremony as must be 
attended to on the farm, Becket conveyed the daughter 
to Rockboro’ during the afternoon, and stopping in front 
of a substantial stone residence, in design and external 
finish a copy of those common to the towns of New 


THE TRUST. 


31 


England, he lifted his charge from the wagon, and they 
together ascended a short flight of steps which led to the 
main entrance. Upon being admitted to the house, they 
were shown through the hall and ushered into a little 
parlor with curtains so closely drawn as to partially ex- 
clude the light. Becket spoke to the girl kindly, telling 
her to be seated, but himself walked the floor impatiently. 

The walls of the room were covered with fanciful 
paper of dark colors, representing familiar scenes in 
Biblical literature. The floors were heavily carpeted ; 
the furniture was, in solidity and fashion, like that of 
a preceding generation. A clock of gigantic size and 
enormous weights extended from floor to ceiling, and 
its, large brassy pendulum seemed to the excited girl to 
cut off great quantities of time wdth a remorseless, un- 
ceasing activity that was fearful ; while its loud ticks 
were but successive proclamations that the day of 
judgment was at hand, and mankind must forthwith 
prepare for the final trial. Death had been very close 
to her, so near, indeed, that she still rested in its 
shadow, and her morbid fancy was, therefore, quick to 
accept melancholy suggestions, and follow them to all 
their possible results. The darkened room, the sombre 
character of the walls, the sweep of the great pendulum, 
and the noiseless tread of her companion all combined 
to inspire her with terror ; and finally, unable to con- 
trol her feelings longer, she burst into tears, and moaned 
like one crushed and hopeless. 

Becket, aroused now from his own abstraction, and 
prompt always to respond to any appeal of sorrow, 
said, softly, — 


32 belle O' BECKET'S LANE. 

Cheer up, my girl ; don’t think of what has oc- 
curred.” And then, as if forgetting his own instruc- 
tions, he continued, — ‘^It seems hard, it is hard to 
bear, but it may be for the best, better for them and 
for you. Good people, wise people, say that those 
who go are forever happy. They ought to know. I 
believe in my heart they do know. Be brave, then, 
and hopeful.” 

Putting aside the heavy curtains, he raised a win- 
dow, and throwing back the outside shutters, let a 
flood of sunlight into the room that seemed to the 
unhappy girl almost a miraculous and positive veri- 
fication of the faith which good people, wise people, 
entertain. At this moment a door opened, and an old 
lady, whose hair was white as wool, but whose form was 
still erect, entered the apartment, and as Becket ad- 
vanced to meet her she extended her hand, and said, — 

Why, Thomas, you are almost a stranger, — quite a 
stranger, in fact.” 

No, no, mother, you forget ; I was here not long 
ago.” 

But you should come often, my son. We are 
always glad to see you.” 

I am pleased to know that, mother ; greatly 
pleased.” Then, dropping his voice so as to be heard 
by her alone, — To-day I have brought a young girl 
with me : a child whose parents are both lying dead 
on the farm. Have my sisters obtain for her such ap- 
parel as will be needed, keep her here if you can, and 
send her out to-morrow. Make her cheerful, and do 
not leave her alone with her own thoughts.” 


THE TRUST. 


33 


know, I know. Poor thing ! her first great sor- 
row.^’ And then the aged mother went to the girl, 
and with much wise discretion made her feel that she 
had found a friend. The son now going out, advised 
his sisters of the situation, and pretty soon they came 
in, two of them, to entertain her with cheerful conver- 
sation. After a little while they said that, as the day 
was fair, a walk would do them all good, and asked her 
to go out with them. Stopping here and there, they 
purchased such things as were needful for her, and 
ordered them to be made up at once. When at last she 
returned to the house she seemed to have known the 
sisters for a long time, and the house itself had taken 
on an air of quiet cheerfulness, and grown infinitely 
brighter than it was at first. A few hours later, when 
Becket called as if to take her back to the farm, the 
sisters told him she would remain over night, and they 
would drive her out in the morning. 

The simple ceremony which preceded the interment 
on the following day took place in the forest under the 
shadow of great trees around an open grave. It con- 
sisted of a brief exhortation, an earnest prayer, a hymn 
in which the sympathetic tones of women and children 
blended tenderly and sweetly. And as the autumn 
leaves came fluttering down, they suggested to the tear- 
blinded girl the thought that angels were gathering in, 
and that her ear caught strains of celestial harmony 
mingling with the melody of earth, and the words of 
old Tom Becket recurred to her, — Good people, wise 
people, say that those who go are forever happy. They 
ought to know. I believe in my heart they do know.’’ 


34 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


Before the first awful thud of earth falling upon the 
coffin was heard, Mrs. Crandall, putting an arm around 
her, said, softly, — 

Come, my dear, we must leave them now in the 
hands of one who doeth all things well.’^ 

The day had been perfect, and now as they were re- 
turning the level beams of the setting sun gave a glossy 
and golden tinge to the rich foliage of scattered and 
clustered trees on the prairie, while the open ground 
was checkered with lights and shadows. The Becket 
homestead, with its great wall of unbroken forest on the 
north, and stretches of level green sward to the south 
and west, seemed, indeed, an ideal landscape. Fifty 
years have gone by since then, and a grasping civiliza- 
tion, indifferent as to the future, prompted only by the 
temporary needs and greeds of the present, has blotted 
out the rich tints of this picture, and left behind only 
the discolored canvas, from which it would be impossi- 
ble to reconstruct the great original, or for the im- 
agination to form even the remotest conception of its 
marvellous beauty. It was then, indeed, as the Creator 
left it in the morning of time when He pronounced it 
very good. 


THE SCHOOL. 


35 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE SCHOOL. 

Mr. and Mrs. Crandall, hitherto at Becketts, now 
removed permanently to number six. The house was 
enlarged by the addition of two rooms in the rear. 
One of these was assigned to Margaret Huntly, and 
filled with such articles of convenience as in that new 
section were generally regarded as luxuries. A little 
library of long unused but excellent books, and a few 
pictures supplied from Becketts attic, gave to the room 
an air of great cheerfulness and comfort. Under these 
circumstances the girl soon settled down contentedly. 
She had at last found a home, not so elegant, indeed, 
as those she had often regarded from a distance, but, 
nevertheless, one which afforded elements of happiness 
hitherto unknown to her, — stability, quiet, rest. To 
these was added, also, the companionship of a con- 
tented, cheerful, motherly woman, who had been well 
reared and fairly educated, and with whom the rough 
experiences of life had left many useful lessons, not the 
least of which was the belief that the source of all hap- 
piuess was within the soul, not without, and in nowise, 
therefore, dependent upon the accidents of birth, wealth, 
or social position. 

Donald Crandall was a Scotchman, but his good wife 
was of New England origin. They had abandoned 


36 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


their old home not so much with the hope of improv- 
ing their worldly fortune, as with a desire to continue 
with friends who had determined to settle in the West, 
and who were kind enough to render their transit an 
inexpensive one. In fact, they had long since passed 
that period in life when they were at all likely to 
be agitated by any ambitious dream of wealth. Their 
wants were few and simple, and these had been so easily 
and fully satisfied in the past that they entertained no 
anxiety for the future, and, therefore, took little or no 
thought of the morrow. 

In marked contrast with Margaret Huntly’s former 
experience was the unobtrusive piety of this aged 
couple. Night and morning they knelt in prayer, 
and while there was no obvious constraint upon their 
acts, and no apparent lack of cheerful conversation 
and genial humor, there was at all times a cleanliness 
of thought, propriety of demeanor, and judicial calm- 
ness of expression, indicating the presence of some 
dominant principle to which obedience had become 
habitual. 

Tlie girl was not so young and unobservant as to be 
unconscious of the fact that in this purer moral atmos- 
phere she was gradually losing a multitude of false im- 
pressions, and absorbing in their stead more healthful 
ideas and truer conceptions of life and its purposes. Her 
father’s continuous change of residence had denied to 
her the regular and systematic training of the schools, 
but the mother having been fairly educated had 
neglected no opportunity to instruct the daughter in the 
rudimentary branches. So that now when Margaret 


THE SCHOOL. 


37 


entered the district school, she was found not more de- 
ficient in education than many other girls of her OAvn 
age. 

At first the fact that she was from Becket’s Lane led 
her schoolmates to regard her with susj^icion, and treat 
her coolly ; but they soon discovered that she was a well- 
behaved, independent, studious girl, who acquired her 
lessons quickly, maintained her position in the class 
easily, and manifested no disposition to thrust herself 
upon anybody uninvited. Her previous itinerant life, 
by bringing her in frequent contact with strangers, had 
given her a knowledge of the world and readiness of 
speech unusual in one of her years ; and now her self- 
possession and aptness at repartee at first astonished 
her companions, and finally won their respect. 

At the noon recess of the second day. Miss Alvirah 
Carr, a promising young lady of seventeen, and the 
belle of the neighborhood, took occasion to address 
Margaret rather haughtily. 

You live on old Tom Becket’s place 
“ I do,^^ Margaret answered, politely. 

Elegant people there,^^ said Miss Carr, sneeringly. 
^^No, I think not,^^ returned Margaret, coolly. 

They certainly make no pretensions of that sort.’^ 

“ Ah ! I am surprised to hear that ! Now what 
sort of pretensions do they make 

cannot speak for all, because as yet I do not 
know them all ; but the members of my own family. 
Miss Carr, mind their own business, speak well of their 
neighbors, do not assume to be better than other peo- 
ple, never sneer at the poor, and never seek to be ofien- 
4 


38 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


sive. If not well clothed, they are at least so well 
bred as to be gentle and courteous to all/’ 

Mercy sakes !” retorted Miss Alvirah, angrily. 

I had no idea they made pretensions of that sort.” 

Your ideas, Miss Carr, may be greatly improved 
by cultivation, and your manners would certainly not 
suffer by contact with the people of Becket’s Lane.” 

As Margaret courtesied politely to Miss Alvirah, and 
walked out of the door, Washington Angle, the lead- 
ing young man of the school, who had overheard a 
part of the conversation, went up to Miss Carr, and 
asked, — 

Who is that girl. Miss Alvirah ?” 

Oh, all I know is that she is from Becket’s Lane ; 
tliat’s enough for anybody to know.” 

Yes, that settles the matter. Still, she seems to be 
an independent, gamey piece, after all.” 

“ If you call impudence independence, Mr. Angle,” 
Miss Carr said, with a frown, she is very independent.” 

Desiring to get Miss Alvirah into a more pleasant 
frame of mind, and yet unwilling to abandon his posi- 
tion wholly, Mr. Angle replied, — 

‘‘ Well, there is a difference, I suppose, between in- 
dependence and impudence ; but sometimes it is a little 
difficult to cletect it. Now, isn’t it. Miss Alvirah ?” 

That may be so, Mr. Angle ; but the truth is, this 
trash from Becket’s Lane ought not to be permitted to 
come to school. They pay no taxes, they are wholly 
dependent upon the bounty of others, and should be 
made to know their true position in life.” 

'' True,” said Mr. Angle, reflectively ; '' but then you 


THE SCHOOL. 


39 


know it is the theory of our ^N’ew England settlers that 
the property of the State should educate the children 
of the State. You must not rebel against this, Miss 
Alvirah.^^ 

So through the autumn and winter months Margaret 
attended school. It did not occur to her perhaps that 
her residence in Becket’s Lane excluded her from the 
little parties to which her schoolmates were invited, 
and which often formed the staple of conversation 
during the time allotted to the pupils for recreation; 
but if such a thought ever crossed her mind she un- 
doubtedly felt that she was fully compensated for this 
inattention by her books or the cheerful companion- 
ship of home. She certainly never alluded to her 
failure to obtain social recognition in such a way as to 
indicate chagrin or disappointment. Once little Miss 
Tholer, who was two years younger than Margaret, said 
to her, — 

You should have been at Mrs. Gaston’s last night.” 

Did you have a pleasant time ?” 

“Such lots of fun, Margaret; lots.” 

“ Well, I am glad.” 

“But why don’t you go sometimes? You never go 
at all.” 

“ They do not invite me, Mary. How can I ?” 

“ Is that so ?” 

“It is.” 

“Well, that’s mean; right mean in them, Margaret. 
I did not think that was the reason.” 

“ What did you think it was, Mary ?” 

“ Oh, I can’t tell exactly ; but — but ” 


40 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


^^Yes. Let me hear/’ 

^^Sorne of the girls say you’re stiff, — that is to say, a 
little proud. And I heard Wash Angle say you were 
very independent. I did not know exactly what he 
meant ; but I thought, maybe, that was the reason you 
didn’t go.” 

Have I ever appeared proud or stiff to you ?” 

“ Never.” 

And I trust not to any one.” 

During the long vacation of summer Mrs. Crandall 
assumed the role of teacher, and advanced Margaret so 
rapidly in her studies that at the reopening in the fol- 
lowing October she took her place among the foremost 
pupils, and was soon conceded to be the brightest scholar 
in the school. A year had made a striking change in 
her personal appearance. She was now fifteen, and 
although stouter and taller than when she first entered 
the school-room, she still retained her old erectness of 
carriage and buoyancy of step. Long before the second 
winter had passed away, the fact that she was of Beck- 
.et’s Lane had been forgotten. She was, indeed, too 
bright a type of humanity to be permanently obscured 
by so trifling a circumstance. And even Mr. Wash- 
ington Angle, the tallest young gentleman in the school, 
at the imminent hazard of drawing down upon him- 
self the displeasure of the imperious Miss Alvirah 
Carr, sought opportunities for giving Margaret to under- 
stand in a confidential way that he esteepaed her highly, 
and might be relied upon to stand by her in case of 
need. 

“ I am afraid Miss Alvirah would not like to have 


THE SCHOOL. 


41 


you speak so kindly to me, Mr. Angle, Margaret said 
to him. 

Nonsense,’’ returned Mr. Angle. You know I 
do not care a snap for Miss Carr.” ‘ 

“ Oh, Mr. Angle, you’ll break the poor young lady’s 
heart. I can’t believe you are in earnest.” 

I am,” replied Mr. Angle. She is nothing to me, 
Miss Margaret, nothing.” And Washington looked as 
if he thought the girl would be fortunate indeed for 
whom he did care. 

I shall expect to see her go into a decline,” said 
Margaret, looking up into his face.' She’ll be a wreck 
in less than a year, Mr. Angle, and I fear your con- 
science will hold you responsible for her unhappiness.” 

The young man evidently accepted this as a compli- 
ment. It had, in fact, occurred to him before that his 
intellectual and physical endowments were of so high 
an order as to render him irresistible to the young 
ladies of his acquaintance. 

^^Well, well, I hope not,” he said, solemnly. ^^She 
certainly could not blame me, for I have never treated 
her otherwise than with ordinary politeness. Miss Mar- 
garet ; and she is nothing to me, — nothing.” 

Well,” said Margaret, ‘‘ I think I had better tell 
her, Mr. Angle, and prepare her for the great disap- 
pointment. Ah ! there she comes !” 

Mr. Washington Angle, considerably agitated, and 
exceedingly red in the face, looked hastily behind him 
as if undecided whether to stand his ground or run ; 
but Miss Carr was still some distance away, and Mar- 
garet, breaking into a merry laugh, said, — 

4 * 


42 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


Ah, Mr. Angle ! I caught you. Your blushes tell 
me how much you think of Miss Alvirah, and your 
insincerity shows how little you think of me. So let 
us drop the subject.” 

Indeed, Miss Margaret,” Washington began, with 
embarrassment, we wouldn’t, of course, — nobody 
would like t6 hear what we say in confidence respecting 
other people talked about publicly. I wouldn’t like to 
have you tell Miss Carr what I have said to you, but, 
— but it is nevertheless true.” 

“ Well, well, Mr. Angle,” said Margaret, laughingly, 
‘^I’ll not tell on you; but Miss Alvirah will not go 
into a decline ; I am quite sure of that. Good-by.” 

Confound the girl,” said Angle to himself, thought- 
fully. “ Could — could she have been making sport of 
me all this time ? It looks a little like it ; deucedly 
like it.” 


CHAPTER YII. 

IS THERE NO HOPE FOR BECKET? 

One winter afternoon a lad on horseback stopped a 
moment before the door of number six ; making his 
presence known by a loud halloo, Mrs. Crandall came 
out and received from his hand a dainty little note ad- 
dressed to Miss Margaret Huntly. It proved to be an 
invitation to an -evening party, a very unusual thing for 
Becket’s Lane, the first probably it had ever known. 


IS TUERE NO HOPE FOR BECKET 9 43 

To Mrs. Crandall’s further surprise, it came from Mrs. 
Captain Fithian, a lady who stood deservedly high in 
that section. Mrs. Fithian’s husband was a retired 
sailor who had for many years commanded his own 
vessel, but finally, as old age came creeping on, he had 
sold out his schooner, and, with the competency thus 
acquired, settled down comfortably for the remainder 
of his days on a farm. During the greater portion of 
her married life, Mrs. Fithian had resided in a city 
situated near the margin of the great lake upon which 
her husband pursued his vocation. She had had, there- 
fore, rare opportunities for the study of fashionable life 
and the acquisition of those delightful accomplishments 
peculiar to society people. It may be presumed, al- 
though not known to be absolutely true, that Mrs. Fith- 
ian had lived upon terms of the closest intimacy with 
the wealthiest and most aristocratic families of the city 
in which so many years of her life were passed. Indeed, 
she never grew weary of giving the details of certain ' 
elegant balls and receptions in which she had partici- 
pated, and it is evident that modesty alone withheld 
her from acknowledging that she was herself the chief 
attraction in those brilliant and regretted gatherings. 
The only criticism ever made upon this estimable lady 
was in respect of her inordinate fondness for snufi* : ex- 
ceedingly particular persons had been known to allude 
to this as a habit not exactly in harmony with the pop- 
ular notion of the cleanly practices of well-bred and 
educated people. Without stopping, however, to discuss 
the question whether this criticism was prompted by 
envy or founded in justice, it may be remarked that 


44 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 


long and excessive use of the article referred to had 
imparted to Mrs. Captain Fithian’s articulation a thick 
nasal twang not by any means as agreeable to the ear 
as the voice of a nightingale. 

Saddle, my deah/^ she had said to her daughter, 
who was busily engaged preparing the notes of invita- 
tion, ^^do you inded to invide thad girl in Becked’s 
Ladef’ 

Oh, yes, mother ; I would not omit her for any- 
thing.’' 

^‘ Bud would the poor girl nod be ebbarrazed and 
unhabby. Saddle ? She is so unuzed, you see, to thid 
sort of thid ; itd might make her dissadisfied with her 
lodt, my deah.” 

Oh, she’ll get along ; never fear. You’ll be charmed 
with her, mother.” 

‘^Yery well; itd would hardly have been the thid 
in Detroid, bud I subboze we can stad itd here.” 

And so the note had been sent to Margaret by one 
of the few schoolmates with whom she had formed a 
pleasant, if not exactly an intimate, acquaintance. 

Mrs. Crandall, with motherly pride at this recogni- 
tion of her adopted daughter, hastened to old Tom 
Becket to suggest that a dress suitable for the pending 
occasion would be very acceptable to the young girl. 

Certainly,” Becket said. Why did you not men- 
tion it before, Mrs. Crandall? We have been neglect- 
ing the girl.” 

‘^No, no,” said Mrs. Crandall, pleasantly; ^Hhere 
has been no neglect ; she has not needed it before. I 
Lave spoken to you in good time, Mr. Becket.” 


IS THERE NO HOPE FOR BECKET? 45 

That’s right ; that is in accordance with the promise 
made me, Mrs. Crandall.” 

Becket gave her a note addressed to his sisters ; di- 
rected Donald to take his wife and Margaret to the 
village on the following morning, and have the girl 
supplied with a suitable outfit for Mrs. Fithian’s party. 
While he cared little for Mrs. Fithian, and still less for 
her party, it suited him to have the poor girl of Becket’s 
Lane appear as well as the best. He had not seen her 
now for over a year, and rarely thought of her, perhaps ; 
but whenever reminded of her existence by Mrs. Cran- 
dall, he recollected her as she stood sorrow-stricken in 
his mother’s house or sobbing as if her heart would 
break beside the open grave of lier parents. 

Old Tom had not improved. He was still drifting 
with a current which was growing stronger day by day. 
He felt, indeed, that it had already carried him beyond 
the possibility of reclamation. In his soberer mo- 
ments the thought of wasted opportunities tortured 
him, and a desire to escape from himself, to deaden 
his conscience, rather than love of that which besotted 
him, was the motor hurrying him forward to destruc- 
tion. The Eev. Mr. Dustin had said to Dr. McCray, 
as they were returning from the morning service on 
the preceding Sabbath,; — 

Is there no hope for Becket ?” 

Nothing,” replied the doctor, ^^but a controlling 
desire, supplemented by an absorbing hope, can save 
him now. The one must be so intense that it will 
render him forgetful of the past, and the other compel 
him to look with eager expectation to the future. To 


46 the belle O' BECHET'S LANE. 

many the love of Christ and the hope of heaven, affec- 
tion for wife and children and desire to provide for 
their future, ambition to attain wealth or high official 
distinction, would be sufficient. But none of .these 
considerations impose restraint on Becket. He has 
now no purpose in life which he deems worthy of great 
sacrifices; no end in view that interests him, even; and 
so he is drifting carelessly, or perhaps I should say in- 
differently, to ruin. You are a minister of the gospel. 
Why? Because yon love your Master, and hope to 
win eternal life. Take away the propelling power of 
love, and you stand idle, a fit subject for temptation. 
Bemove the attractive force of the promised reward, 
and you become indifferent as to the future. There 
must be both love of the object and hope of its attain- 
ment to stimulate men to their highest action. It is by 
suggesting to men the joys of heaven and the promises 
of Christ that the Church detaches them from the trifles 
of the world. The orator, the statesman, the divine, 
the artist, the devotee of science are all, to a greater or 
less extent, tlie subjects of a dominant paSvSion and en- 
couraging hope, which renders them successful just in 
so far as it makes them self-forgetful. The miser’s 
love of gold increases with his hoard, and grows strong 
in proportion as his desire for other things diminishes. 
If an absorbing passion, coupled with a reasonable 
hope of its gratification, could be developed in Becket, 
it would save him. But I fear it is too late for this. 
In childhood and youth we are like the drop of water 
trembling on the crest-line, — a straw may divert it to 
the lake or sei\d it to the river. And so the most 


IS THERE NO HOPE FOR BECKET? 47 

trivial circumstance may carry a child to the pulpit or 
convey him to the prison. All things are interesting 
to the inquisitive minds of the young, and their thought 
may be easily led either toward good or evil. The 
life-motive should be developed and cultivated then. 
It is then only that it requires attention. When firmly 
rooted, the winds of opposition serve only to increase 
its strength. Becketts condition is the sequence of de- 
fective training. His father was too much absorbed in 
other matters to direct the thoughts and affections of 
the son to objects whose pursuit would have ennobled 
and enriched his life. This neglect did not arise from 
any want of natural regard for the child, nor from 
ignorance of parental duty, but from an utter absorp- 
tion in the more pressing concerns of daily life. The 
temporary and less important things were clamorous 
for attention, and so the boy was permitted to drift 
with the current of his surroundings.’^ 

“But the mother?’’ suggested Mr. Dustin. 

“She did her duty, and is in nowise censurable. 
The daughters, who were under her immediate influ- 
ence, are exemplary women. The restless nature of 
the boy, however, would not brook confinement, and 
without the vigilant, restraining influence of a father’s 
authority, and the better companionship he might have 
afforded, the boy found such company as he could, and 
naturally found it among those who, like himself, were 
idle. A little attention, such as we give to the training 
of a horse, even, would have rendered the companion- 
ship of the father pleasant to him, would have led him 
to take an interest in business, and so saved him from 


48 


THE BELLE O' BECKETS LANE. 


idleness, opened up higher and better views of life, and 
finally rendered him a useful and happy man. The 
burden of the blame is not with Tom ; it rests with the 
father, who should have been the son’s most intimate 
friend and adviser, observant of all his moods, ever 
ready to check his evil impulses and encourage his good 
inclinations.” 

But the father was considered an honest, intelli- 
gent, generous man.” 

And so he was,” replied the doctor. I have some 
skill as a physician. Suppose I were to find that my 
patient needed rest and careful nursing, and then should 
neglect to provide for rest and nursing, of what practi- 
cal use would be all my skill ? The elder Becket knew 
what to do well enough, better, in fact, than most men, 
but he never, apparently, had time to stop and see that 
it was done. He lacked that plodding, persistent pa- 
tience which scrupulously attends to details. He was 
one of those who cannot wait upon the slow processes 
of nature, but impatiently insist upon sowing the seed 
one hour, and gathering the harvest the next. He was 
a man of good impulses, firm as a rock in his devotion 
to principle, who saw objects looming up grandly in 
the distance, but was blind to those around him ; he 
must do something heroic or nothing at all. As a re- 
sult, the little things of life, which he had regarded 
with impatience and contempt, and so neglected, finally 
multiplied, and became so clamorous for recognition 
that he could think of nothing else.” 


MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 


49 


CHAPTER YIIL 

MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 

On a night in midwinter, when the moon was at its 
full and the fields lay gleaming under it in spotless 
purity, an incessant tinkling of bells at the gateway 
opening to Captain Eithian’s house announced the 
gathering of his guests. As the young people, tum- 
bling out of their sleighs, recognized each other be- 
neath wraps and hoods, exclamations of surprise were 
uttered, succeeded by hand-shakes and merry laughter. 
In the house two great log fires were roaring cheer- 
fully, and beside one of these Mr. and Mrs. Fithian 
sat in easy-chairs to welcome their visitors. The invi- 
tations had embraced a broad area : some of the guests 
were from the village, others from farms which lay 
ten miles distant. were full of boisterous merri- 
ment and eager desire to make the most of Mr. and 
Mrs. Fithian ’s kind hospitality. 

^^Mother,^^ said Sallie, ^^you know Mr. Angle, — 
Mr. Washington Angle, of course?’^ 

Certaidly. We are glad to see yon, Mr. Angle. 

Then Captain Fithian, extending his hand to the 
young man, said, heartily, — 

Make yourself at home, Wash.’^ 

Mr. Drake, mother,’’ Sallie said, as she presented 
a good-looking young man from the village. 
c d 5 


50 


THE BELLE O’ BECHETS LANE. 


know Mr. Drake very well, my deali,’’ replied 
the mother, pleasantly. 

''Yes,’' growled Captain Fithian, "he charges her 
two prices for the goods she buys of him. How can 
she help knowing him ?” 

" Now, captain,” returned the young merchant, with 
a laugh, "you will never stop joking, — never.” 

" I never joke,” said the captain, seriously. " I have 
lived entirely too long with Mrs. Fithian to be in a 
mood to joke. By the way, Mr. Drake, where is IV^rs. 
Duck?” 

"That’s quite old, captain, quite; but if Miss Sallie 
will permit,” said the young man, laying his hand 
lightly on the daughter’s arm, " I will present her to 
you as Mrs. Duck.” 

The young girl’s blushes were unnoticed by the 
father, who replied, — 

" No, no, you can’t do that. We know her too well 
as Mrs. Goose.” 

Miss Alvirah Carr never appeared to better advan- 
tage than on this occasion. Her features were irregu- 
lar and commonplace, indeed, and the elaborate arrange- 
ment of curls about her forehead, and profusion of high 
colors in her dress indicated that her taste was grievously 
defective ; but her beauty was of that robust, substantial 
order which comes of perfect health, and which, let it 
be obscured as it may by faulty dressing, is always 
attractive, because always suggestive of contentment, 
high spirits, and thorough enjoyment of life. Young 
Jettings, a law student from the village, had captured 
Miss Alvirah soon after her arrival, and had monopo- 


MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 5I 

lized her society thus far to the evident annoyance of 
Mr. Washington Angle, who felt that his claim upon 
her antedated that of his rival by many years of inti- 
mate acquaintance, and many confidential interviews, 
very pleasant, indeed, but resulting thus far in nothing 
save frequent palpitations of the heart, indecisiveness 
of purpose, and moody reveries. 

I am so pleased to have met you. Miss Carr,^^ Mr. 
Angle overheard Jettings remark softly to his com- 
panion. So very glad.’^ 

Alvirah never before appeared so charming to Wash- 
ington as she did at this moment. She was, in fact, 
perfectly bewitching, and he thought he detected an 
air of triumph in her bearing altogether new to him. 

Confound the young pettifogger,’^ he said to himself. 

Has she fallen in love with him ? Has he proposed 
and been accepted already ?” 

The two, arm in arm, were passing down the room 
again, and Angle caught other wmrds which did not at 
all abate his anxiety or predispose him to more cheer- 
ful views of life. 

^^Oho, this is not the first meeting! It’s an old 
affair. Why, confound the girl. She has talked to 
me freely, but never mentioned her intimacy with Jet- 
tings. Why not, unless she is in love with him ?” 

Mother,” said Sallie, this is Miss Huntly, — Mar- 
garet Huntly.” 

Mrs. Fithian turned to receive the young girl thus 
presented to her, but, as if astonished at not finding the 
person expected, she hesitated a moment, being tem- 
porarily thrown off her balance. When Margaret, 


62 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE. 


however, saluted her with a graceful courtesy, the 
old lady recovered her self-possession, and extending 
her hand, said, — 

Saddie has often spogen of you. I am glad you 
habe come, and hobe the eveging will be a pleasadt 
one to you.’^ 

Margaret was attired in a soft, white, well-fitting in- 
expensive dress. A modest ribbon, suggestive of 
autumn foliage, encircling her neck, was fastened at 
the throat by a simple brooch. There was in her ap- 
parel no effort at effect perceptible, and yet she could 
not have been rendered more lovely. There was, too, 
an air of refinement in the girl which puzzled Mrs. 
Fithian ; while her bright eyes, fair complexion, 
abundant brown hair, and splendid physique presented 
a type of womanly beauty which the good hostess in- 
wardly confessed she had never seen equalled since 
those far-off brilliant days when she was herself sur- 
rounded by the exquisite people who make up fashion- 
able society. 

Now, Margaret,” said Sallie, I want you to cheer 
up Mr. Angle. He stands over there the very picture 
of melancholy.” 

Perhaps the poor gentleman has lost his favorite 
dog?” 

No, no. I guess it is not so bad as that.” 

Mr. Angle stood near the wall with his arms folded, 
gazing abstractedly upon the merry groups about him. 
He was still pondering over what in his anger he had 
seen fit to designate as Miss Alvirah^s infidelity. It 
had not occurred to him that no words had ever passed 


MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 53 

between them to warrant this harsh criticism. But then 
if he had remembered that she was entirely free to 
listen to Mr. Jettings’s soft nonsense, and if he had 
recollected still further that he had himself spoken as 
softly to a half-dozen different girls during the present 
half-spent winter, it would not have diminished his un- 
happiness on this occasion, and he would perhaps have 
been angry even — for young gentlemen are sometimes 
unreasonably selfish — if Mr. Jettings had monopolized 
the attention of any other handsome girl in the room, 
while he was present seeking to contest the honors with 
him. But he had thought of Miss Alvirah as a possi- 
ble Mrs. Angle ; and it was especially galling, there- 
fore, to see her snapped up and carried off* by a petti- 
fogger’s impudent clerk. 

‘‘ Well, really, Mr. Angle,” said Sallie, accosting him 
rather abruptly, I did not know before that yon had 
become so j)roud as not to notice your humble friends.”. 

Why, Miss Sallie — Miss Huntly,” returned Wash- 
ington, bowing, “ I am your servant, proud to do you 
honor.” 

Sallie thought your heart was broken, Mr. Angle,” 
said Margaret, cheerfully, “ you looked so very solemn ; 
but she must have been mistaken.” 

No, Miss Sallie was right. I could not find you 
when I came, and I began to droop at once.” 

‘^Well, I hope you will revive now,” said Sallie, 
turning to leave. Keep Margaret in good spirits, Mr. 
Angle.” 

Indeed,” said Washington, ^^Miss Fithian could 
not have given me a more delightful task. 


54 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


Do you know, Miss Margaret, that you look like 
a rose to-night 

Now, Mr. Angle,’^ she said, as they started to walk, 
you should talk seriously to me.’’ 

That is just what I am doing. I am telling the 
solemn truth,” he replied, looking down upon her ad- 
miringly. He had already forgotten Miss Alvirah, un- 
stable man that he was, and as for the detestable Jet- 
tings, he remembered that there was such a being with 
a sort of commiserating tenderness. But,” he con- 
tinued, I thought you had forsworn parties ; really, 
I did not expect to have the pleasure of seeing you 
here to-night.” 

And yet a moment ago you attributed your melan- 
choly to my absence. Do you mean to say, sir, that 
you came here on purpose to mourn for me? What 
inconsistency, Mr. Angle. Really, you should be a little 
more reasonable.” 

Very well; the fact that I rejoice over your pres- 
ence now not only proves that I am a sensible fellow, 
but a reasonable one — a regular philosopher, so to 
speak. I behold the cause in you, and trace the effect 
to my heart.” 

Miss Alvirah, strange to observe, was not happy ; 
a shadow had fallen upon her fair face ; she had dis- 
covered the presence of Margaret, and at the same time 
recognized the fact that the girl from Becket’s Lane 
was treated with respect by the ladies, and regarded 
with admiration by the gentlemen. She is a lovely 
girl,” young Fenwick had said, in Alvirah’s hearing, 
'' a very lovely girl.” To add to her discomfort, Mr. 


MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 55 

Jettings, with more haste than discretion, inquired about 
Margaret, and when he found that she was a school- 
mate of Miss Carr’s, had begged to be presented to her. 
The tables had in some way been completely turned. 
Washington Angle was radiant with good humor, and 
overflowing with pleasant badinage, and the fair Al- 
virah could not forget that she had sometimes dreamed 
of the possibility of becoming Mrs. Angle. Not too 
easily, of course, not without bringing into requisition 
all those maidenly defences which render the suitor 
more vehement, the preliminary attacks more exciting, 
and the final capitulation more intensely dramatic. In- 
deed, she had never proposed to drop into any man’s 
arms like an over-ripe plum. He must struggle for 
her manfully; but she had gone so far in her innermost 
soul as to conclude that if Washington made the proper 
effort, and manifested a persistent, unfaltering zeal in 
the cause, she might yield to him, reluctantly, perhaps, 
but gracefully. He had, she thought, more than once 
contemplated entering upon an aggressive campaign, 
but after a few preliminary flourishes of sentiment, 
characterized by indecision or timidity, he had with- 
drawn from the attack, as if not confident of final 
victory. 

But Margaret had not come to Mrs. Fitliian’s party 
to spend the entire evening with Washington Angle; 
she was accustomed to meeting him quite frequently in 
the school-room, so that there was no charm of novelty 
ab)ut his companionship. Eelinquishing his arm at 
the first opportunity, she soon became the centre of the 
merriest group in the room. Washington Angle had 


56 the belle 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 

told the exact truth when he said she looked like a 
rose ; her rich complexion had suggested the thought to 
many others, and all were making the discovery that 
her modest, graceful bearing, sprightliness in conversa- 
tion, perfect self-possession, and great beauty rendered 
her a most brilliant and fascinating girl. Even Miss 
Alvirah, who had sulked for a while, concluded finally 
to be content with second honors ; and so, forgiving 
Washington for his temporary divergence from the 
true objective, she had taken liis arm, resolved to ex- 
tract the greatest possible pleasure from her surround- 
ings, without troubling her head further respecting the 
girl from Becket’s Lane, who was, with all her pretti- 
ness, but a poor dependant upon somebody’s bounty. 
And as for the gentlemen, there was no accounting for 
their tastes anyway, as was evidenced by the fact that 
the handsomest men generally married the ugliest 
women. Consoling herself with these most sensible 
reflections. Miss Alvirah participated in the further 
festivities of the evening with a spirit of hearty good 
humor which did her credit, and added materially to 
her attractiveness. 

With the single exception of Mr. Francis Drake, 
whose unwavering fealty to Sallie Fithian rendered 
him content with an introduction to Margaret and the 
interchange of a few pleasant words, all the young 
gentlemen vied with each other in seeking her acquaint- 
ance and in endeavoring to make themselves as agree- 
able to her as possible. Mr. Jettings, by exceeding 
vigilance, succeeded in escorting her to the refreshment- 
table, but young Fenwick retaliated on his rival by 


MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 57 

handing her into the sleigh when old Donald called to 
take her home. 

Aweel, Margaret/^ said Donald, as they were 
driving off, did ye hae a pleasant evenin’, lass ?” 

“Very pleasant, indeed, father. I never enjoyed 
myself better.” 

“ I am quite sure, then, ye saw naebody but the auld 
leddy,” he said, with a smile. 

“ Oh, yes, I saw many others. You think, then, 
Mrs. Fithian is very good company, do you, father?” 

“ Rare company, my lass. Ye micht gang fra here 
till Embro’ an ye wad nae fin’ ane ’twad talk better 
thragh her nose than Mistress Fithian.” 

As Jettings and Fenwick were returning to the vil- 
lage together long after midnight, the former remarked, 
indifferently, — 

“ That’s a stylish sort of a girl, Harry.” 

“ What girl ?” Fenwick asked, as if he could not re- 
call the particular one to whom his friend alluded. 

“ That young girl in white. What the deuce is her 
name? I have no memory for names, but I thought 
her rather pretty ; moderately so, you know.” 

“In white?” responded Fenwick, meditatively. 
“ Let me think. I can never remember the color of a 
woman’s dress. Are you sure she was in white ?” 

“Why, dod-rabbit it, man, I mean the girl you 
escorted to the sleigh. Now, what’s her name?” 

“ Really, I forget, Jettings ; but I think it is Hunter, 
or Humper. I’ll find out exactly if you’d like to know.” 

“ Thank you ; I don’t care about it particularly, but 
she struck me as rather above the average for the 


58 the belle P ’ beckets lane. 

country. One does not expect a great deal in tlie 
country, you know.^^ 

“ No ; and if one did he’d be disappointed.” 

On the second evening after the party at Airs. Fith- 
ian’s a sleigh turned into Becket’s Lane. The gentle- 
man who occupied it seeing a man feeding cattle in a 
field near by hailed him, and asked to be directed to 
Air. Crandall’s house. The laborer told him how to 
find it, and then inquired, — 

Ha’ ye ony business wi’ Crandall ?” 

Oh, no, thank you. I simply desired to know 
where he lived.” 

Giving his horse the whip, the young man drove up 
the lane, stopped at number six, and, alighting, knocked 
at the door. When Airs. Crandall responded to the 
summons he asked, — 

Is Aliss Huntly at home ?” 

She is ; come in, sir.” 

He entered the house, and, after seating himself be- 
fore a glowing fire, looked about him in a surprised 
way at the rough furniture and bare walls. He began 
to think that possibly he had made a mistake. Cer- 
tainly the surroundings were a little — very considera- 
bly — difierent from what he expected them to be. 
There was, it is true, no lack of good housewifery 
there. The floor and the furniture were models of 
cleanliness ; the curtains over the windows rivalled the 
snow in whiteness and purity ; an air of tidiness and 
comfort pervaded the room ; but it was not such a 
place as he had looked forward to, and somehow, as 
he sat there, he began to contrast himself with the 


MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 


59 


things around him, and to come to conclusions greatly 
to his own advantage. He should have credit, at any 
rate, for a vast deal of condescension. In fact, he 
grew very much in his own estimation within a few 
minutes, but before he had had time to develop into 
herculean proportions Margaret entered the room, and 
going up to him with a face radiant with pleasant sur- 
prise, held out her hand and said, cordially, — 
Good-evening, Mr. Jettings.’^ 

With a feeling that he had shrunk immeasurably, 
he said, — 

Thank you. I — I called to see if you had gotten 
safely home from Mrs. Fithian^s, and were very well.’^ 
^^You are kind, Mr. Jettings; very kind, indeed. 
It was a pleasant party, and I enjoyed it greatly 

But — but you left quite early. Miss Huntly. You 
oughtn’t to have done that. You know, I really didn’t 
care to remain myself afterward.” 

Oh, Mr. Jettings !” Margaret replied, with a laugh. 
I am sure you are drawing on your imagination a 
little now. You have a lively imagination, I think, — 
that is to say, the creative faculty is largely developed 
in you ; but that — pardon me — is one of the character- 
istics of great men.” 

It had occurred to Mr. Jettings before that he pos- 
sessed many of the elements of greatness, but his ex- 
treme modesty forbade him to acknowledge it; and so, 
with blushes, he responded, — 

Now, Miss Huntly, it is surely a stretch of the 
imagination to apply that language to me, you know.” 
It is true, nevertheless,” she said, with an air of 


60 


THE BELLE O' BECHETS LANE. 


candor. A strong, lively imagination is one of the 
peculiarities of great men. This fact is very well es- 
tablished by psychologists.” 

By whom ?” exclaimed Jettings, catching his breath 
as if he had been stunned by a blow on the head. 

Oh, well,” answered Margaret, laughing heartily, 
Mr. Crandall will be in soon. There isn’t a Scotch 
metaphysician whose works he does not know by 
heart, and he will sit up all night to tell you who 
they are, and how they differ ; but you will find, after 
all, that what I have told you is true. That much, at 
least, of the doctrine of man’s spiritual nature I have 
learned from Mr. Crandall.” 

While Mr. Jettings was looking eagerly into the. 
brown eyes of Margaret to ascertair^ if possible, 
whether she was making sport of him or not, a knock 
on the door was heard. Mrs. Crandall, laying aside 
her knitting and spectacles for the second time to- 
night, answered the call. 

Is Miss Huntly within ?” 

Dod-rabbit it !” exclaimed Jettings, forgetting him- 
self utterly, that’s Fenwick.” 

It was Fenwick. In coming forward he manifested 
some little embarrassment, for he was surprised and 
chagrined to find Jettings ; but he was a young gen- 
tleman not at all deficient in assurance, and almost 
instantly regained the nonchalant air habitual to him. 
After Margaret had given him cordial welcome and 
introduced him to her mother, and then, remembering 
that she had not performed a like service for Mr. Jet- 
tings, presented him also, Fenwick drew up to the 


MRS. CAPTAIN FITHIAN AT HOME. 61 

hearth, and turning to the lawyer in a confidential 
way, said, — 

Mark, did you see Mr. Boshockle this evening ?’’ 

No.’’ 

He was looking for you. Something very impor- 
tant, — somebody dying, I think, and a long will to be 
drawn ; at least, I inferred so from his impatience and 
anxiety to find you.” 

Indeed !” exclaimed Jettings, uneasily. 

It may be nothing, but the old man appeared to be 
excited and angry.” 

Miss Huntly,” said Mr. Jettings, hastily, “ I must 
bid you good-evening. Mr. Fenwick informs me that 
important business requires my attention in the village 
at once. Mrs. Crandall, I trust you will permit me to 
call again ?” 

Certainly, sir ; we shall be happy to see you at any 
time,” replied the old lady, looking up serenely from 
behind her spectacles. I regret that Mr. Crandall is 
not in ; he would be pleased to meet you.” 

Margaret stood for a moment in the doorway as she 
bade Mr. Jettings good-night. The moonlight fell 
softly over her and the rough cabin, and a picture of 
surpassing loveliness set in a rude Gothic frame was 
photographed on the young man’s heart. He touched 
his horse rather angrily with the whip, and in an 
undertone, not at all indicative of amiability, said, — 

Dod-rabbit Boshockle, he never wants a fellow ex- 
cept when he’s away, — never; and then he’s always 
sure to be angry.” 

The next day Fenwick dropped into Lawyer Bos- 
6 


02 the belle O’ BECKETS LANE. 

Iiockle’s office. Jettiiigs looked up for a moment from 
a volume of Blackstone, but he failed to recognize any 
person worthy of his attention, and so continued his 
reading. 

^‘Mark/^said Fenwick, called to tell you that 
that young lady’s name is Huntly, — Margaret Huntly.” 

It was a shabby trick,” replied Jettings, hotly. 

“ Her father,” continued Fenwick, unmindful of the 
student’s wrath, is a Scotch psychologist, or some- 
thing of that sort, and talked to me three hours on the 
science of man’s spiritual nature.” 

Thank heaven for that.” 

Did you ever hear,” continued Fenwick, with pro- 
voking coolness, ^^of Sir William Hamilton, David 
Hume, Dugald Stewart, Schleiermacher, Trendelen- 
burg, and Uberweg?” 

No.” 

I have.” 

Dod-rabbit it, go !” 

“Are you aware, sir, that John Duns Scotus at as 
early a period as 1308 insisted that ^ the hceccietas in 
conjunction with the constitute the individual 

thing?’ ” 

This had at last become intolerable. Mr. Jettings 
now sprang from his chair, seized a stick of firewood, 
and, whirling it about his head with fearful velocity, 
shouted, “ Do you know, sir, that there is such a thing 
as justifiable homicide ?” 

“ That’s a legal question. I’m no lawyer. Inter- 
rogate me on a subject with which I’m familiar, like 
psychology, for instance. Good-morning,” 


“ THAE VERRA MON SHE WADNA WEDN 63 


CHAPTER IX. 

^^THAE VERRA MON SHE WADNA WED.’^ 

On a dull, rainy day in the latter part of March, 
Margaret dragged from a little closet in her bedroom 
what had been her mother’s trunk, and commenced 
laying out on the floor one by one the articles of clothing 
which it contained. They brouglit back to her mind 
very vividly many incidents of the old unsettled life. 
This dress had been purchased in St. Louis; she re- 
membered the time well. That shawl was obtained in 
Charleston, South Carolina, and other articles at Mo- 
bile, Xashville, and Louisville. The peregrinations of 
the family had embraced a wide scope of country, and 
some little memento was found of each place visited 
since Margaret was old enough to remember, and these 
now kindled memories that had been slumbering for 
years. It had been a strange life, full of vicissitude 
and anxiety, and the retrospect was by no means a 
pleasant one to the young girl. Where her mother had 
spent the unmarried portion of her life she never knew ; 
possibly she had never thought to ask while the ques- 
tion might have been easily answered. Parents rarely 
excite the curiosity of children by reference to the 
years of their individual history whose discussion would 
revive memones either humiliating or discreditable to 
themselves ; and childhood, having no past of its own 


64 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 


to recall, gives little thought to that of others. Look- 
ing back upon the period of their wanderings, Mar- 
garet could not escape the conviction that there had 
been an utter exclusion of one subject, which now at 
least was of some interest to her. She was far too 
happy in her home, however, and too full of the buoy- 
ant, hopeful spirit of youth to be troubled by any mor- 
bid sentiment, or to fall into any despondent mood 
respecting a matter which, if all the circumstances were 
before her, she would probably not alter if she could. 
Possibly her mother had been intentionally silent abont 
the past, because it was better for the daughter that 
she should be. If this were the case, it would be now 
the part of wisdom not to pursue the subject; while, 
on the other hand, if the lives of her parents contained 
so little of interest that the past could be so easily for- 
gotten, it would be certainly a profitless task to recall 
it, even if it were possible to do so. Although not 
devoid of curiosity on the point in question, she did 
not allow herself to brood over it to the exclusion of 
more practical and cheerful topics. 

Having finally satisfied her whim, she began to fold 
and repack the displaced articles ; in doing this, some 
inequality in the lining of the trunk suggested that 
there was possibly more in it than she had ever sur- 
mised. A careful examination strengthened her sus- 
picion. Calling Mrs. Crandall into the room, the can- 
vas lining was ripped open, and a roll of parchment 
and a bundle of old letters taken out. The first proved 
to be a marriage certificate executed at Wilmington, 
North Carolina, a little more than a year before Mar- 


“ THAE VERRA MON SHE WADNA WED.” 65 

garet was born. It bore witness simply to the fact 
that Philip Huntly and Caroline Iredell had been 
united in wedlock. The letters were all written at 
Kaleigh, and by the same hand. Six of them were 
signed Richard, two R. L., and one with the full name 
of the writer, — Richard Land on. They were filled 
with passionate professions of attachment, and evi- 
dently referred to an episode in the mother’s life 
which had subsequently become very dear to her. 
They had, therefore, been treasured up as relics of 
the most delightful period of her existence, or re- 
minders of a precious opportunity left unimproved, 
indeed, but still through life ever suggestive of a 
strong loving heart, that sought to crown her with 
happiness and honor. The tears came into Mrs. Cran- 
dall’s eyes as she read these letters, for she understood 
now what the poor mother meant when on her death- 
bed she alluded to her great mistake. She had re- 
jected one of solid, manly qualities, who loved her 
devotedly, nay, passionately, and who could have pro- 
vided her with a luxurious home, surrounded her with 
pleasant comi^anions, and made the years of her life 
delightful, and accepted in his stead a dashing, hand- 
some, unprincipled adventurer, for whom, so soon as 
she came to realize his true character, she felt an utter 
disgust. She made an effort to abandon this terrible 
life, Mrs. Crandall remembered, but it had been un- 
successful ; and the fearful humiliation of her failure 
induced her to resolve that her child should never, 
from the same source, at least, suffer mortification so 
poignant and intolerable. 


(50 THE BELLE O’ B EGRET’S LANE. 

The discovery of the afternoon was the subject of the 
evening’s conversation. 

The letters,” said old Donald, were na writ by a 
fule. They show the mark o’ thocht an’ liberal educa- 
tion. They were writ by an earnest raon, also. Had 
yer mither lo’ed him, lassie, ye wadna hae been wi’ us 
the day.” 

Do you regret that, father ?” the girl asked, with 
tremulous voice. 

Na, na, my bairn ; nae for our ain sakes, but for 
yersel’, an’ the puir woman we burriet nigh twa year 
sin’. It was sair, indeed, that aiie wi’ sic’ opportuni- 
ties, an’ sa young, s’uld gang sa sune.” 

Donald !” Mrs. Crandall exclaimed, admonitorily, 
for she saw that the tears were gathering in Margaret’s 
eyes. 

Wheesht, wheesht. Mistress Crandall, we canna help 
thae reflection that thae chiel’s name micht ha’ been 
Landon instead o’ Huntly, an’ that a wee stra’ may 
change thae human current ta the eend o’ time ; aiblins 
a triflin’ spite, maybe a fule romaunt, or thae needless 
arbitrariness o’ thae old folk ; maybe a dash in’ way 
whilk thae young Huntly had wi’ him maybe, indeed, 
thae Huntly forbears stood as high as thae Iredells an’ 
Landons, an’ maybe he was a bit reckless, an’ like ither 
ne’er-do-weels was cast aff by his family, an’ was too 
proud-like to be reconciled wi’ ’em, or too fixed in habit 
ta change his life, an’ sae fin’ pleasure i’ travellin’ their 
gait. Wha kens ? A bit moss or stra’, or a wee stick 
hae changed thae current o’ mony a river ; trifles are 
important elements i’ human life, an’ s’uld be closely 


“ THAE VERRA MON SHE WADNA WED.'' 67 

watched : mair trees are crocket by a wee mouldy leaf 
as they are springiii’ frae the sod than by thae storm ; 
an’ thae gude God’s best sowls, if lost at a’, are lost i’ 
childhood an’ early youth.” 

The name of Landon strikes me as a familiar one, 
Donald,” remarked Mrs. Crandall, desiring to change 
the subject. I have certainly heard it before.” 

“ Na doot, na doot,” replied Donald. It is nae 
verra unco’, Mistress Crandall. There’s a senator o’ 
thae United States o’ that name.” 

“ From which State ?” inquired his wife. 

Lassie, hand me thae almanac aboon thae mantel.” 

Margaret took the almanac from the peg where it 
had hung suspended by a loop, and carried it to Don- 
ald, who, turning over the pages, finally found the leaf 
he desired, and read, — 

Landon, Eichard, North Carolina ; residence, Ra- 
leigh.” 

Thy mither’s lover, my chiel ; thae verra mon she 
wadna wed. But wha can tell i’ youth ? The men 
o’ brain an’ mettle are afen silent, modest, awkward 
chaps, wha ha’ na tact wi’ leddies. They hae ither 
thochts than o’ dress an’ fashions, an’ canna spen’ their 
time for thae amusement o’ idle gels, wha love saft 
nonsense an’ ta whirl i’ thae giddy dance wi’ brainless 
callants. Thae bigges’ fules afen win thae highest 
prize. I hae mony times thocht kin’ nature tuk pity 
on fules, an’ gie ’em a double share o’ dainties.” 

“ Is that last epigrammatic remark based upon your 
own personal experience, Mr. Crandall ?” said his wife, 
smiling. 


68 


THE BELLE O' BECKETS LANE. 


Na, na, Mistress Crandall, my speech was imper- 
sonal. he continued, as a mischievous twinkle 

flashed in his gray eyes, I may weel believe I s’uld 
ha’ marriet better than I did, had I had less sense, for 
then a’ time purty gels o’ Berkshire hills wad ha’ 
droppit intil my arms for thae askin’ !” 

“Oh, Donald,” his wife said, laughing, “you know 
that you got the very best one you could !” 

“ Certainly, Mistress Crandall, a mon o’ my abeele- 
tees couldna ha’ dune better than I did. But had I 
been a senseless fule, wha can say what gret gude 
fortin’ wad ha’ awaited me? I s’uld ha’ been rich, 
maybe.” 

“ Does your poverty make you unhappy, husband ? 
and have you been so very unfortunate?” the wife 
asked, soberly. 

“ Ah, noo thou’rt in earnest, Mary, an’ in soberness 
I tell ye that God hae been verra kin’ to me, an’ thou 
hast been a gude an’ lovin’ wife, an’ thae aulder I get 
thae mair I realize thae wisdom o’ that prayer, ^ Gie us 
neither poverty nor riches,’ for sandwiched atween thae 
twa are thae choicest blessings o’ life.” 


BRAVE AND HOPEFUL. 


69 


CHAPTER X. 

I SAY TO YOU NOW, BE BRAVE AND HOPEFUL.” 

June, the gentlest and loveliest month of the twelve, 
with her perfect days, marvellous freshness, and radiant 
beauty, had clothed the Becket farm with a charm 
almost ethereal. The isolated groves of young forest- 
trees; the clusters of plum, haw, and thorn; the laby- 
rinths of hazel and brier, containing open, grassy areas 
where human feet rarely trod, and no discordant sound 
ever penetrated ; the wide stretch of prairie, green 
with native grass, dotted with the wild rose, lily, and 
honeysuckle ; the melody of birds, and the soft air fra- 
grant with the breath of flowers, might readily enough 
suggest to one who looked upon the scene the poet’s 
dream of Elysian fields. 

The brook which ran through the Becket home- 
stead now swelled from bank to bank, and hurried 
forward with the contributions of not only the recent 
rainfalls, but of the great reservoirs in the dense forest 
farther westward. The heavily timbered lands in that 
level section were, in spring-time and early summer, 
always wet and sometimes flooded ; but in these later 
years they have been cleared up and the swales drained, 
so that such of the water as does not escape by evapora- 
tion has either found new channels or is carried off more 
rapidly through the old ; hence many important water- 


70 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE. 


courses of half a century ago are now, for nine months 
in the year, either entirely dry or disfigured by muddy, 
stagnant pools. 

At the time of which we speak, however, there was 
a steady and handsome flow of water through the 
Becket farm during the spring, summer, and autumn 
months, and on this delightful June day Margaret 
Huntly sat beside the stream just where it debouched 
from the shadow of the forest on the west, and went 
rippling a little way in the sunshine of the prairie 
before plunging into the darkness of the still heavier 
timbered lands lying to the north and east. AVith 
fishing tackle in hand, she was silently watching the 
current of the stream and manao:ino: her line with a 
skill which indicated that she was by no means inex- 
perienced in that particular pursuit. A string of bass 
in an eddy near by proved that she had not been un- 
successful. 

With no sound to break the quiet of the scene but 
the chatter of birds and the ripple of the waters, and 
with the evening sun falling softly on the open ground 
about her, while a little farther off the shadows were 
gathering, and still farther away deepening gradually 
into darkness, the girl sat so absorbed in her amuse- 
ment that she failed to hear the footsteps of one who, 
with gun on his shoulder, emerged from the forest, and 
at sight of her stopped suddenly as if he had by mis- 
take intruded upon sacred ground. Just then the line < 
of the fair fisher was caught and hurried down the 
stream. The rod fairly trembled in the struggle which 
ensued. The girl, springing to her feet, gave the fish 


BRAVE AND HOPEFUL. 


71 


more play, finally drew it to the bank, and succeeded in 
landing it safely on the shore. The intruder, now 
stepping forward, said, — 

Well done ! You are an expert ; let me disengage 
the hook.” 

The girl, turning in surprise, exclaimed, — 

Why, Mr. Becket ! How in the world did you 
find this solitary place ?” 

Becket gazed upon her a moment as if endeavoring 
to recall the name of one who recognized him so 
readily, but being apparently unsuccessful in this, re- 
plied, — 

By accident.” 

Well, I am right glad you have come, for I can 
now give you a nice bass to carry home with you, unless 
— which would be the better thing to do — ^you conclude 
to dine with me.” ^ 

‘^Indeed,” said Becket, hesitatingly. ^^You seem 
to know me, but I am ashamed to confess I cannot 
recall your name. My memory is mortify ingly de- 
fective ; I trust you will pardon it.” 

Oh, Mr. Becket !” said the girl, laughingly. You 
don’t mean to say you do not know me ?” 

“I regret that it is my misfortune not to remem- 
ber that I have ever seen you before,” Becket re- 
plied, looking very much as if he were at the confes- 
sional weighed down by an unpardonable offence. No 
day had passed during the last three years when 
Becket’s name and acts and habits were not themes of 
earnest thought and conversation in the Crandall 
household. Margaret felt that she knew him as well, 


72 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKET'S LANE. 


even, as she did old Donald himself. Without realiz- 
ing that there had been a great change in her own per- 
sonal appearance to account for Mr. Becket’s failure to 
recognize her, the fact that he did not, added to the 
puzzled, embarrassed manner of the man, struck her 
as so supremely ludicrous that she broke again into 
hearty laughter. 

Becket, nettled a little now, turned, and taking the 
hazel fork, on which the girl had strung her fish, from 
the eddy, put her latest and largest catch upon it, and 
then looked calmly into her face as if expecting some 
explanation of her merriment. 

AVhy,^’ she said, finally, I have known you, Mr. 
Becket, for three years, and during that period I think 
no day has passed in which your name has not been 
often — quite often — mentioned in my hearing.” 

Ah, then, I understand why you laugh ; but — but 
to my own mind I am a subject of commiseration 
rather than of merriment. Do those always laugh at 
my follies who talk of me so freely ?” 

The quiet, dignified bearing of the man, and the 
tender pathos of the tone in which this inquiry was 
made, brought a shadow over the girl’s face. 

Laugh at you, Mr. Becket,” she exclaimed, seri- 
ously. ^‘No, no; I have heard nothing but earnest 
words — kind words — of you, sir, and of your generous 
acts, Mr. Becket. I have heard prayers for you morn- 
ing and night, and good wishes for you always, Mr. 
Becket. And I want to thank you — I should have 
done it long ago — for your care of me, your generous 
thought for one who had no claim upon you, none in 


BRAVE AND HOPEFUL.” 73 

the world, but who has, nevertheless, been the fortunate 
subject of your bounty for years.” 

‘‘Well, well,” said Becket; “I wish I could think 
myself deserving of these kind words, for I realize 
their value fully ; but I have either been confounded 
with another, or you are still disposed to make sport of 
me. Let me tell you, my young lady, that if in earnest, 
you are mistaken ; if not in earnest, you have been in- 
dulging in most cruel sarcasm. May 1 ask your name ?” 

“ Come,” said the girl, apparently wounded by this 
distrust of her sincerity, and with the thought, perhaps, 
that she could find a better place to vindicate her candor. 
“ Come, I will show you where I live, and as we walk 
together there I will tell you who I am, and convince 
you that my words are not those of idle mockery or 
deliberate cruelty.” 

They proceeded on their way in silence for a little 
while, and passing through a grove of half-grown trees, 
came to that open area from the centre of which a 
bubbling spring sent a little rivulet to the brook. 
Stopping here the girl picked up a gourd which lay on 
the stone curb, and dipping it in the water, offered it 
to Becket. 

“ Drink,” he said. 

She put the cup to her lips, and then refilling it, 
handed it to him. 

“ Do you remember meeting a young girl here three 
years ago, Mr. Becket?” 

“ You are Margaret Huntly ?” he said, with an as- 
tonished look, “ and I — I have been thinking of you 
all this time as a child, — as I saw you then.” 


74 the belle O' BECHETS LANE. 

^^And now tliat you find me grown so tall and 
stout/^ she said, cheerfully, ^^you will not think of me 
at all, perhaps/^ 

Well, well, my thoughts could do you little good. 
They have not benefited me much thus far in life, and 
I fear never will ; but 

“ Mr. Becket,^^ the girl broke in, as if prompted by 
some sudden inspiration, standing on this very spot, 
you said to me, a poor, wandering, homeless child, who 
was then despondent and murmuring at her lot, you 
said, — the words have been echoing in my heart ever 
since, — you said, ^ Do not let the past throw any shadow 

upon the present,’ and — and ” She could proceed no 

further, her last words came broken and choking from 
a full heart. As if now alarmed by her own boldness, 
or feeling utterly inadequate to perform the task she 
had so hastily assumed, with tears and sobs and vain 
efforts at self-control, she bowed her head and seemed 
utterly helpless and pitiful. 

Margaret,” replied Becket, shaken by the violence 
of his own feelings, “I know what your kind heart 
prompts you to say. If I thought I could — if I was 
sure ” 

“You can! you can! God helping you, you can!” 
she cried, passionately. 

“ Margaret ” 

“You told me once, in your mother’s house, when — 
when the shadows of death hung over me, and the 
world seemed desolate and miserable, you told me to 
be ^ brave and hopeful.’ I say to you now, be brave 
and hopeful. Here ” she continued, lifting the cup 


BRAVE AND HOBEFULV 75 

dripping from the spring, and holding it out to him, 
Pledge, pledge the honor of a gentleman.’^ 

“ Margaret,^’ he said, indecisively, “you do not know 
what you ask/^ 

“I do!^^ cried the girl, with an intensity of feeling 
and an impetuosity of action marvellous to witness. “ I 
ask you to seek life, health, happiness, honor, for your 
own sake, for the sake of others, and for the glory of 
God! Pledge! Be brave and hopeful.^’ 

The man, either forgetting himself, or thinking only 
of the appealing girl, or concluding on the instant that 
he would make one more effort at reformation, took the 
cup from her hand and raised it to his lips. 

“ Come,’^ she said, with still streaming eyes, but a 
face and voice full of joy. “ We have won a victory 

Taking his arm, they walked towards the lane, and 
for a time were silent, but finally she looked up into his 
face, and said, — 

“You think me bold, very bold 

“No, no; I was thinking of my own weakness.’’ 

“Do not think of that; think of the favor I have 
still to ask of you, the great favor. Will you grant 
it?” 

“ It may be impossible for me to do so.” 

“ Not impossible, but still it will require a great sac- 
rifice, perhaps a very great one.” 

“ I shall at least consider it.” 

“ Mrs. Crandall thinks it would be best. She has 
spoken of it time and again, but has never had the 
courage to tell you.” 

“ Mrs. Crandall is very considerate and moderate in 


76 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


her demands, and I feel encouraged to hope it is not 
so far beyond my power to grant as I at first appre- 
hended. It is what?’’ 

“ That you will spend your evenings with us.” 

Why, that would require no sacrifice at all. Does 
Mrs. Crandall really want me to do that?” 

She does.” 

And you ?” 

I shall be delighted. It will introduce a new ele- 
ment into our discussions. I shall hear something less 
of the science of man’s spiritual nature, and something 
more of the world, — of the current news. Have you 
a hobby ?” she asked, laughing. 

None fully developed as yet.” 

^‘Well, that is encouraging to begin with; but you 
have some tendency of mind, no doubt, which, thrusting 
aside all others, will finally develop into one and 
monopolize the field. Donald says we all have. With 
some it is business, others religion, politics, literature, 
science, art ; with still others, horses, dogs, and cattle.” 

“ And what is yours ?” 

“Mr. Crandall says it is the cat,*“but I think he 
simply asserts this for the purpose of insisting upon 
the universality of his theory. I am quite sure, how- 
ever, it is not psychology.” 


I LOVED THE GIRL. 


77 


CHAPTEE XL 

LOVED THE GIRL AS I HAVE NEVER SINCE 
LOVED WOMAN/^ 

Barnabas Boshockle was a lawyer in fair practice, 
and a politician of some local prominence ; he had thus 
far in life held no official position, but was neverthe- 
less an expert manipulator of nominating conventions. 
The gentleman who now represented the district in 
Congress was indebted to the shrewdness of this vil- 
lage lawyer for the place he held rather than to any 
especial merit of his own. There are stirring spirits 
in whom the people will not confide, but by whom they 
are quite often led, and Boshockle was one of them. 
After repeatedly testing his popularity by offering him- 
self as a candidate for unimportant offices, he at last 
very wisely concluded that for him it would be more 
profitable to exert what influence he had in behalf of 
others than directly for himself, and consequently he 
had in later years acquired a reputation for unselfish 
independence in political affairs, which greatly aug- 
mented his power as a politician and made him a valu- 
able ally in all local contests. When, therefore. Senator 
Landon, of North Carolina, leaned condescendingly 
over the desk of Representative Jones and asked for 
the name of a discreet and honorable attorney in the 
village of Rockboro’, that of Barnabas Boshockle was 


78 the belle 0’ BECKETS LANE. 

at once mentioned. Rising from his seat, Representative 
Jones took the arm of the senator, and they walked 
leisurely up the aisle together, disappeared for a mo- 
ment in the cloak-room, and then leaving the capitol 
building by a door on the east front, crossed the street 
diagonally to a famous lunch-house, where, having seated 
themselves in a quiet parlor, a bottle of wine was or- 
dered and the conference continued. 

My reason for making the inquiry,’’ Landon said, 
is this. I have received a letter, signed Mrs. Donald 
Crandall, requesting me to give such information as I 
may possess in relation to the family of Caroline Ire- 
dell. Before answering it, I desire to know who this 
Mrs. Crandall is, why she applies to me for informa- 
tion, and what interest she may herself have in the 
Iredell family.” 

I can think of no better man to serve you than 
Squire Boshockle,” Jones said. He is a lawyer of 
great tact, and one in whose judgment you may fully 
confide.” 

He is the man, doubtless ; but for certain reasons I 
would prefer that he should not know the inquiries are 
prompted by me.” 

That can be easily arranged,” replied Jones ; ^^give 
me a memorandum of the information desired, and I 
will obtain it. The inquiries, if made with discretion, 
may take time, involve some outlay of money, and 
Boshockle ” 

“ Certainly, certainly,” interrupted Landon. I have 
thought of that.” Laying a hundred dollar bank-note 
on the table, he continued, Will this be sufficient?” 


“/ LOVED THE GIRL.'' 79 

“ More than enough ; I think half the amount would 
do/’ 

Send the whole ; I want the investigation made 
with tact and secrecy.” 

The gentlemen had emptied their glasses frequently, 
and under the mellowing influence of the wine the 
senator became more and more communicative, until 
finally he had taken Jones so far into his confidence as 
to impart to him such reminiscences of his early life as 
were suggested by the subject under consideration. 

“Twenty years ago,” he said, “I met Caroline Ire- 
dell, the person to whose family this letter relates, in 
a college town in North Carolina. We were both at- 
tending school. Her home was Wilmington, mine 
Raleigh. She was of an old family, and the loveliest 
girl I ever met; but she possessed an independence of 
spirit and an impatience of restraint that led her into 
many social improprieties annoying to her friends, al- 
though of such a character as to cast no reflection what- 
ever upon the purity of her life. Her very reckless- 
ness rendered her all the more fascinating to the young 
Southern gentlemen by whom she was surrounded, and 
the fact that her father was immensely wealthy, and 
the family one of the oldest and most respectable in 
the State, drew about her scores of admirers, of whom 
I was, perhaps, the humblest, but not the least devoted. 
In fact, I loved the girl as I have never since loved 
woman, and for a time believed that my affection was 
reciprocated. But not long after our separation, and 
her return to Wilmington, she, in a mad freak, married 
a handsome profligate of good family, indeed, but him- 


80 the belle O’ BECHET'S LANE. 

self a notoriously disreputable character, who, after a 
year of dissipation, killed one of his associates in a 
gambling -house, under such circumstances as to arouse 
the whole city against him, and induce the authorities 
to offer a reward for his apprehension. He was never 
captured. A few months afterward his wife disap- 
peared also, and it is a little singular that after the 
lapse of fifteen or twenty years I should receive a letter 
from a little Western town asking for information about 
the family of my old sweetheart.^^ 

It is,^^ responded Jones ; but the inquiries indicate 
that the — the woman is not living.’^ 

She must have died many years ago. The evidence 
of this fact must in some form have have been sub- 
mitted to the courts of North Carolina when her 
father’s estate was in process of settlement. She would 
have inherited one-half of it if living:.” 

She may have left a child, and hence the inquiry ?” 
No. That she had none must have been established 
also to the satisfaction of the court, for the child would 
have inherited the mother’s share ; that is to say, one- 
half of the finest estate in North Carolina. I do not 
now remember the evidence upon which the court acted, 
although there was much said about it at the time; 
but I do know that the father of Caroline died 
suddenly and without making a will, and that her half- 
brother obtained possession of the whole estate.” 

The half-brother, then, might not be anxious to 
discover that either his sister or her child was living.” 

He died some years ago. There was a bitter feud 
existing between Caroline and her half-brother, which 


“7 LOVED THE GIRL. 


81 


it is believed culminated in her unfortunate marriage. 
At any rate, they never got on amicably together, and 
he never forgave her for disgracing the family by a 
mesalliance. In fact, I think he never would have for- 
given her any way for being born at all, for he was in- 
ordinately fond of wealth and power, uncompromising 
and revengeful. I have always believed the woman 
loved me, but that in a moment of desperation she 
threw herself away. While I cannot imagine what 
could have prompted the inquiries of Mrs. Crandall, 
and cannot believe that our investigation will lead to 
any desirable results, yet I am deeply interested in 
unravelling the mystery.’’ 

A week or two after this interview, Mr. Boshockle 
was seated in his office busily engaged in the prepara- 
tion of a case for trial. Mr. Jettings, his student and 
clerk, entered with the mail, and laying it upon the 
table before his employer, took a volume down from 
the shelf, and seated himself for the day’s studies. 
Mr. Boshockle, running his eye over the letters, finally 
selected one which bore the frank of George W. Jones, 
M. C., and breaking the seal took out a hundred- 
dollar bank-note with quiet satisfaction, and thus 
encouraged, read the letter with respectful attention. 

There were four inquiries to be made : 

^^1. Is there a Mrs. Donald Crandall residing in or 
near the village? 

2. If so, who is she ? 

3. Who are her immediate relatives and friends ? 

4. How long has she resided there, and where did 
she live before ? 

/ 


32 the belle O’ BECHET’S LANE. 

Push your investigations with tact and secrecy, and 
report at your earliest convenience/^ 

Refolding the letter and placing it in his desk, Mr. 
Boshockle thrust the bank-note in his pocket, and, after 
glancing hastily over the remaining letters, picked up the 
newspaper and for a half-hour seemed wholly absorbed 
in its contents; but finally he laid down the paper, 
turned to his pupil, and asked, — 

Do you know any person of the name of Cran- 
dall 

Mr. Jettings’s face flushed deeply, for he thought 
Mr. Boshockle had been prying into his secrets, and 
perhaps now proposed to make himself unnecessarily 
offensive. Recollecting, however, that it was a prin- 
ciple of law that a man should be considered innocent 
until proven to be guilty, he answered, — 

No.^’ 

Then thinking that the proof against him might be 
of a positive and overwhelming character, he thought 
best to qualify his plea of not guilty by adding, — 

At least, no such name occurs to me at this instant.’^ 
That^s not true, sir. You should be more exact in 
your statements.’^ 

Jettings was now on the point of making a full con- 
fession and throwing himself upon the mercy of the 
court, when Mr. Boshockle added, — 

The name must occur to you now, as it is the very 
name we are discussing ; but have you ever heard of it 
before, or do you know any person of that name ?” 

“ Not to the best of my knowledge and belief,” re- 
sponded Jettings, with a sigh of relief and a look of 


I LOVED THE GIRL. 


83 


infantile innocence. Not to the best of my recollec- 
tion, sir.^^ 

“It may be important, continued Boshockle, “to 
use Mrs. Donald Crandall as a witness, if she can be 
found without too much trouble, and it might be well 
to make inquiries respecting her. Will you see to 
itf^ 

“ Oh, yes,^^ replied Jettings, now fully at his ease. 
“ When shall I set about it 

“Now, sir, while you think of it; to delay is to 
neglect and forget. Every hour presents its special 
care to occupy the attention ; hence if we act at all 
we should act promptly, and whatever is worth doing 
should be done thoroughly. Remember this, it may 
make your fortune.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” 

As the young man picked up his hat and turned to 
leave, his employer called him back. 

“Make your inquiries quietly so as not to put your 
opponents on the alert ; surprises are always efFective, 
and generally decisive of victory. The secret of suc- 
cess lies in concealing your own hand and looking into 
that of your adversary. Mind this, it may be useful 
to you.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“By the way,” cried Boshockle, calling him back 
from the pavement, “it is always well to know as 
much as possible about the witness. If the testimony 
is favorable to your client, you should be able to show 
that it comes from a reliable source. If against him, 
you should be able to discredit it. It is, therefore, im- 


34 the belle 0 ’ BECHETS LANE. 

portant to know the personal history of the witness; 
the character of his associates, family relations, and all 
the little incidents which go to make up one’s reputa- 
tion in the community. I mention these things not 
because they have any special bearing upon this case, 
for it is really an unimportant one, and may never 
come to trial, but because they should be remembered 
as to all. Bear these suggestions in mind, for they may 
be useful to you hereafter.” 

^^Dod-rabbit the man!” said Jettings, impatiently, 
when he finally got away. Does he take me for a sim- 
pleton ? Now tins is no common afiPair ; if it were, he 
would have said, ^ Do you know Crandall ?’ ^ No.’ 

^ Find her.’ But he has sent me out with generalities 
enough for a graduating speech. Does the innocent old 
soul suppose that I needed to be reminded that the 
secret of success is in concealing your own hand and 
looking into that of your opponent? I have played 
poker too often not to be perfectly aware of that. In 
fact, that’s my strong point in the game. The business 
in which I am about to engage will require at least a 
full day, probably a week ; for he wants the details, 
and they must be obtained quietly. I shall see Mar- 
garet Huntly again, in the absence, I hope, of that old 
Scotch bore, — dod-rabbit him. Why can’t a man of 
his age and experience go quietly to bed and to sleep ? 
Does he suppose everybody is dying to discuss meta- 
physical questions with him?” 

In fact, Mr. Jettings was very considerably dis- 
gusted with what he sometimes designated as old Don- 
ald’s psychological vagaries ; and while now going to 


“/ LOVED THE GIRL^ 


85 


the stable for his horse he thought of his last visit to 
the lane with a feeling of deep humiliation. He had 
made a ridiculous mistake on that occasion, which ren- 
dered him uncomfortable for a week. It happened in 
this way. Old Donald was riding his hobby as usual, 
full tilt. 

Ye maun bear in min’, young mon,” he had said, 
that what we ken by oreeginal perception is that non- 
ego, whilk is distinguished frae thae sentient ego, or 
thae ego whilk animates the sensorium. Ye ken, 
av coorse, what thae ego is ?” 

^^The what?” exclaimed Jettings, absently, for he 
had been looking at Margaret, and not thinking of the 
old man at all. 

Thae ego ?” 

Certainly,” replied the young man, promptly. It 
is a name sometimes given to a dog ; in fact, it is the 
name of Boshockle’s rat terrier.” » 

Margaret laughed until the tears came into her eyes, 
and then looked at Tom Becket and roared again. 
Becket himself smiled, but the old Scotchman said, 
solemnly, — 

Wheesht, wheesht, my bairn. Thae young mon is 
awee aff, but na mair than ye ha’ been yersel’ mony a 
time. It is afen deeficult, indeed, fo’ thae min’ to grasp 
abstract ideas, an’ we sometimes confoun’ them wi’ thae 
concrete; an’ then, again, ttae abstract suggests thae 
concrete sa forceebly, that we afen gie utterance ta thae 
mair familiar idea unconsciously.” 

Since that evening Jettings had been greatly worried 
for fear this occurrence would reach the ears of Fen- 
8 


86 


THE BELLE 0’ BECKET’S LANE. 


wick, and that that unconscionable rogue would tell it 
over the village. ♦ 

That Fenwick/’ Jettings said to himself, as he now 
drove leisurely southward towards the Becket farm to 
discharge the duty Mr. Boshockle had assigned him ; 

that Fenwick is a great liar ; one cannot believe a 
word he says. I pity him from the bottom of my 
heart, but then I despise a prevaricator, and my self- 
respect will not permit me to associate with him longer. 
A man must make some sacrifices for the truth, and I 
shall -sacrifice him.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE EESULT OF MR. JETTINGS’s INQUIRY. 

The day was a pleasant one, and Mr. Jettings pro- 
posed to make it a holiday. A half-hour’s drive 
brought him to the Becket farm, but remembering that 
it was expected of him to do his work well, and throw 
his enemies, if peradventure there were any, off his 
track, he did not turn into the lane, but continued 
leisurely southward, as if his objective were many miles 
beyond. In fact, the man whom he desired to circum- 
vent on this occasion was Mr. Boshockle himself, and 
the gentleman whose fullest inclinations he intended 
to gratify was Mark Jettings, prospectively the ablest 
lawyer of the age. There was a method of blunt di- 
rectness in business which required no skill, and there- 


THE RESULT OF MR. JETTINGS’S INQUIRY. S7 

fore afforded no amusement ; there was one also which 
brought all the faculties of the soul into healthful and 
pleasurable exercise, familiar to diplomats, and ex- 
ceedingly attractive to Mr. Jettings^s peculiar genius. 
He concluded, therefore, to adopt the latter, and, in 
imitation of the eagle, circle round and round his 
quarry, then finally swoop down and take it in. 

As he approached Captain Fithian^s residence, he 
detected in the garden adjoining the house on the north, 
and near the roadside, what at a distance he took to 
be two broad-brimmed summer hats, from which there 
was a flutter of ribbons. Instantly checking his horse 
to a slow trot in order to be prepared to avail himself 
of any opportunity that might offer to spend an hour 
in pleasant company, he looked eagerly over the paling 
into the labyrinth of lilacs, roses, hollyhocks, and 
creepers to see if perchance he could catch the eye of 
Sallie Fithian ; but the foliage and flowers along the 
fence separating the garden from the public highway 
were so thick that his heart sank in fear lest he should 
be compelled to })ass for want of an excuse for stopping. 
The rumble of the wheels, however, had attracted the 
attention of two young ladies, and as they, looking to- 
wards him, waved their handkerchiefs in token of rec- 
ognition, he stopped his horse, and responded by lifting 
his hat in salutation. 

“ Why, Miss Sallie he cried. “ It is difficult to 
tell which is the fairer, you or the roses.’’ 

This speech was received with a burst of merry 
laughter, and Mr. Jettings, now recognizing her com- 
panion, added, — 


88 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


‘‘ Miss Alvirah, too ! The garden is blooming with 
loveliness to-day. Indeed, the flowers do not look 
half so bright as they did ; the contrast is unfavorable 
to them. See how they hang their heads in acknowl- 
edgment of your superior beauty.^’ 

The girls may have been pleased with this speech, 
and may not. It was certainly not very delicate flat- 
tery, but they were not disposed to quarrel with Mr. 
Jettings over what was evidently intended as pleasant 
badinage. Unfortunately, however. Captain Fithian 
was at that moment clipping the sprouts from a shrub 
just inside the garden fence. He did not like Mr. 
Jettings any too well, mainly because of his connection 
with Mr. Boshockle, whom he detested. In fact, the 
latter gentleman had recently been employed in a law- 
suit against the captain, and, as was his custom, had 
been exceedingly lavish of bitter invective, and the old 
captain, although a good-natured man, was slow to for- 
give what he regarded as a personal affront. His feel- 
ing of enmity to the lawyer had extended to his sub- 
ordinate. Thinking now that he detected in Mr. 
Jettings’s speech, if not a touch of sarcasm, certainly 
gross indelicacy, which deserved rebuke, he rose to his 
feet and said, — 

That horse, Mr. Jettings, that poor horse hangs his 
head also. May he not feel mortified at the hollowness 
of your speech and the grossness of your flattery? I 
have heard much about good horse-sense, sir, and sus- 
pect that you have shocked it.^^ 

Jettings saw that the captain was not in an amiable 
mood, and was now also conscious of the fact, perhaps, 


THE RESULT OF MR. JETTINGS'S INqUlRY. 89 

that he had overshot the mark somewhat ; but while he 
did not desire to invoke the further displeasure of 
Captain Fithian, he was at the same time determined 
not to be put down and humiliated in the presence of 
the girls, and so replied, — 

^^Oh, no. Captain Fithian ; that horse has known 
me a long time, and reposes the utmost confidence in 
me; but just now he is contrasting the narrow, sterile 
streets and poverty of his home with the broad, green 
fields and wealth of the country, and is in consequence 
somewhat melancholy.’^ 

“Well, well,” replied the captain, sharply, “your 
close relationship to the beast qualifies you, of course, 
to speak for him. I thought, however, from the way 
he hung his head that he was rather ashamed of the 
connection.” 

The captain accented his remarks in such an exasper- 
ating way that they seemed to bear some shadow of 
meaning which the words alone might not warrant, and 
the young man, somewhat nettled now, was meditating 
a suitable rejoinder, when Sallie Fithian interposed, and, 
holding a bunch of flowers over the paling, said, — 

“Here, Mr. Jettings; here is a bouquet for you.” 

The father picked up a pair of garden-shears, which 
had been lying on the grass at his feet, and walked 
away. He now liked Mr. Jettings still less than be- 
fore, but, upon reflection, he felt that he had no right 
to make his daughter and her friends uncomfortable, 
and as he went meditatively to the house he began to 
feel that he was not by any means sure that the young 
man had said anything to warrant this little ebullition 
8 '^ 


90 the belle O’ BECKERS LANE. 

of anger. It was the habit of young people to make 
use of extravagant language, and Mr. Jettings had 
said no more, perhaps, than any other young man 
would under the same circumstances. He was certainly 
in nowise responsible for Boshockle’s conduct. Cap- 
tain Fithian was a just man, and the more he thought 
of the matter, the more certain he became that he had 
done the young lawyer injustice. When he entered 
the house, therefore, he said to his wife, — 

Young Jettings is with the girls in the garden. 
Invite him to remain for dinner.^’ 

Mrs. Fithian going out, found the young people, 
shook hands cordially with Jettings, and said, — ' 

You must stay to dinner, Mr. Jettings.’^ 

But Jettings had no desire to face the old captain 
again, and so replied, — 

‘^No, no, thank you, Mrs. Fithian. I am out to- 
day on business, and regret that I cannot allow myself 
the pleasure.^’ 

^^Budt itd will notd delay you long; itd is now 
nearly the dinner-hour. We won’td ledt you go, Mr. 
Jettings. Sallie and Alvirah, you insistd upon his 
remaining.’^ 

While the two girls were supplementing the per- 
suasive eloquence of the mother, by the charms of 
pleasant entreaty and bright eyes, a man had come 
from the house and taken Mr. Jettings’s horse to the 
stable, so that having no alternative now but to remain, 
he permitted the girls to take each an arm and conduct 
him to a rustic seat near the centre of the garden. The 
air was loaded with the fragrance of rose and lilac. 


THE RESULT OF MR. JETTINGS'S INQUIRY. 91 

delightful combinations of blossom and leaf ravished 
the eye, and the agreeable chatter of two handsome 
girls flattered the ear, so that Mr. Jettings was happy. 
He felt, however, that he deserved his good fortune, 
and that he was himself contributing his full proportion 
to the pleasure of the occasion, for modesty was no 
more one of Mr. Jettings’s frailties than piety. He 
regarded the former as peculiarly the property of 
females, and the latter as exclusively belonging to the 
clergy. While he laid no special claim to either, 
lie was, nevertheless, one of those exemplary young 
men who regard with righteous indignation the wicked- 
ness of others, and yet are ever ready to tolerate, ex- 
cuse, and justify their own shortcomings. Hence it 
was that Mr. Jettings could condemn with much bit- 
terness Fenwick’s occasional failure to adhere to the 
exact truth, while a little prevarication on his own part 
was regarded as a matter of no consequence whatever. 
Fenwick’s wickedness never appeared so desperate and 
inexcusable as when it interfered with Mr. Jettings’s 
cherished plans, or disarranged them altogether, and he 
could not forget the enormity of that mischievous false- 
hood by which he had been induced to abandon the 
pleasant society of Margaret Huntly, and go hurrying 
to the village as if his presence there were a matter of 
life and death. When, therefore. Miss Alvirah inno- 
cently inquired after his friend Fenwick, Jettings, with 
a solemnity almost oppressive, said, — 

Keally, Miss Alvirah, I know very little of Fen- 
wick now. His conduct has been quite peculiar of 
late, and I have considered it my duty to avoid him.” 


92 the belle O' BECHET'S LANE. 

Indeed, I thought Mr. Fenwick a very agreeable 
young man.’’ 

And so, in some respects, he is. Miss Alvirah ; but 
he is, I regret to say, deficient in moral tone, elevation 
of thought, and respect for the truth.” 

Mercy on us ! Is he so bad as that ?” 

Observe, Miss Alvirah,” said Mr. Jettings, as if 
disposed to deal kindly with the reputation of the ab- 
sent, I have no charges to make against Fenwick, no 
disposition to criticise him, in fact, for I would not do 
him injustice for the world ; but there is in him an 
obliquity of morals which is not j)leasant for me to 
contemplate.” 

I am sorry to hear that.” 

Not more than I to know it. Miss Alvirah. You 
can see that my own standing in society and in business 
circles makes it necessary for me to be somewhat careful 
in the selection of my associates. We are judged by 
the company Ave keep, and it is so easy for one to be 
compromised.” 

Mr. Jettings,” said Sallie Fithian, abruptly, 
Harry Fenwick is a very clever young man.” 

“Certainly, Miss Sallie. In the English sense of 
that word, because he’s bright ; in the American sense, 
because he spends his money freely, but Apollyon ” 

“ Who ?” cried Sallie, looking up demurely into 
Mr. Jettings’s face. 

“ The devil ” 

“Say no more, Mr. Jettings,” said Sallie, laugh- 
ing. “ I thought you were too good to utter so bad 
a word. Why, this is downright profanity, Alvirah ; 


THE RESULT OF MR. JETTINGS^S INQUIRF. 93 

and from one, too, who is setting himself up as a 
model.” 

“ No, no ; not as a model. Miss Sallie ; there are two 
better ones here now. It would be quite useless for 
me to set up a third, and one that must needs blush at 
its own inferiority.” 

The young ladies courtesied politely, and Miss Al- 
virah, thinking this of itself not a sufficient return for 
so graceful a compliment, proceeded to pin an elegant 
bouquet to the lapel of the young man’s coat. Before 
this delightful task was fully completed, Mr. Jettiiigs, 
who had been all the while on the lookout for the 
irascible old captain, now caught a glimpse of some one 
pushing rapidly toward them through the shrubbery, 
and involuntarily exclaimed, ^^Dod-rabbit it, it’s Fen- 
wick.” 

Halloo !” cried the intruder. What are you 
hiding for ; don’t you want to see me ?” 

We are very glad to see you,” said Sallie, extend- 
ing her hand when Fenwick came up. 

‘^Miss Alvirah, how do you do?” said the young 
man, heartily. And how is Washington Angle?” 

^‘Keally, Mr. Fenwick,” the girl replied, with a 
laugh, I cannot answer for Mr. Angle.” 

^^No, no; of course not. You don’t see him oftener 
than seven days in a week, and of course can’t tell. 
Do you know. Miss Alvirah, that I like him, — a good 
way off, as I do Jettings. The fact is, when I call on 
you, Washington is there; and when I come to see 
Miss Sallie, I find Jettings. I am afraid I shall either 
have to murder these innocent young men outright, or 


94 the belle 0 ’ BECHET'S LANE. 

lose all hope of happiness. Mr. Jettings, pardon me ; 
I did not observe you before. I hope you are very 
well.^^ 

I am much obliged to you, sir, for your good 
wishes,’^ Mr. Jettings replied, stiffly. 

^^Not in the least; not in the least, Mr. Jettings. 
Come, Miss Sallie, show me the flowers; I am really 
very fond of flowers.^^ 

That is one good trait in you, at least,’’ Sallie said, 
as she took his arm and walked away with him. 

have another,” he replied, looking down upon 

her. 

Indeed !” 

I am fond of — you.” 

^^You are altogether better than I thought, — too 
good, I fear.” 

am. But, hush; I have something serious to 
tell you.” 

“ Not of another good trait, I hope.” 

No, no.” Then raising his voice so that it could 
be heard by those behind them, but apparently address- 
ing himself to Miss Fithian only, he continued, Not 
an liour ago Boshockle was discovered lying in his 
office dead ; the weapon with which the fata^ shot was 
fired lay on the floor near him. It was a melancholy 
spectacle.” 

Horrible,” exclaimed his companion, with a shudder. 

‘^In truth, it was,” said Fenwick. ‘^Say nothing 
about it to Jettings, for he’s really attached to Bos- 
hockle, — loves him like a son, and the sad intelligence 
would render him very unhappy.’ 


THE RESULT OF MR. JETTINGS^S INQUIRF. 95 

“ I think we really ought to tell him, Mr. Fenwick.’^ 

No, no,^’ said Fenwick, Come, let us continue 
our ramble.” 

This terrible communication cast a shadow over the 
fair face of Sallie Fithian, and she could not help feeling 
that it was wrong to withhold a knowledge of the sad 
occurrence from Mr. Jettings, who was in one sense a 
member of Mr. Boshockle’s own family. But her 
companion, now that he had relieved his mind of the 
subject, apparently gave it no further thought, and 
laughed and joked, and seemed to be wonderfully 
cheerful for one who had been the bearer of such awful 
tidings. Having completed the circle, they returned 
to the spot from whence they had set out, to find Miss 
Carr seated in the rustic chair awaiting them alone. 

Where is Mr. Jettings ?” exclaimed Sallie. 

He has gone to the village. He overheard you, 
Mr. Fenwick, and departed in great haste. And so it 
is true that the poor man has committed suicide ?” 

No, no ; not suicide,” he replied. 

^^But you said he was dead.” 

Dead-drunk, Miss Alvirah.” 

“ No, sir ; you said he was dead,” said Sallie, hotly. 

Certai^ily ; but, out of regard for the feelings of my 
hearers, I did not think it best to be too explicit. Now 
you are vexed because I was so considerate, and want 
to quarrel with me for not defining the particular phase 
of the man^s deadness. How could I have done that 
without humiliating his friend ? It is no disgrace for 
men to die; it is even glorious to die for one’s country; 
but how could I say rudely to Boshockle’s most cher- 


96 


THE BELLE O’ BECHETS LANE. 


ished and intimate companion, Boshockle is dead- 
drunk? E-eallv, I hadn’t the heart to do it, Miss 
Sallie.” 

But you said the weapon was lying near him,” said 
Miss Alvirah, indignantly, for I heard you.” 

I used the word weapon in a technical sense. Miss 
Alvirah. It was lying on the floor, empty, its last 
charge gone.” 

Oh, Mr. Fenwick,” said Sallie, soberly and firmly, 
this is all very wrong, sir ; it is really shocking ; you 
not only deceived Mr. Jettings, but you trifled with us. 
The statements of a gentleman, sir, are always truthful.” 

Miss Sallie, now thoroughly angry, took the hand of 
Miss Carr, and as they turned towards the house, said, 
Good-morning, sir,” and so left the young man to 
meditate alone upon what he had at first conceived to 
be a capital joke. 

Just what motive had prompted Mr. Jettings to 
proceed to the village with so much expedition, it would 
be difficult to determine. It was certainly not affection 
for his employer. Mr. Boshockle was an arbitrary 
man, who had lived for many years on the frontier, 
where the graceful courtesies which govern in good 
society were not generally observed. He had acquired 
the habit of expressing his opinions with great freedom, 
and with little regard for their effect upon the feelings 
of others. He was especially dictatorial and insulting 
to his employes, and while these always obeyed him 
with promptitude, they nevertheless did so with a 
mental reservation that the uncivil treatment received 
from him should be remembered and fully repaid. 


THE RESULT OF MR. JETTING S’ S INQUIRY. 97 

Perhaps the thought that public opinion would demand 
that those associated with Mr. Boshockle should be 
present on so solemn an occasion, was the controlling 
motive in Mr. Jettings^s mind ; but while all this must 
be left to conjecture, it is still absolutely certain that 
he drove into the village with great rapidity ; and when 
his, or rather Mr. Boshockle’s horse, dripping with 
perspiration, dashed up to the office, Mr. Boshockle 
himself cried out, in a fearful rage, — 

What does this mean, sir ? Are you trying to ruin 
that horse 

^^No, sir,” replied Jettings, in astonishment. 

Why this great haste ?” thundered Boshockle. Look 
at the beast, it is fairly melted with heat. Have you 
no more sense, you idiot, than to drive a horse to 
death?” 

It did not occur to me that I was driving fast,” re- 
plied Jettings, in a deprecatory tone. 

What in the name of common sense did occur to 
you ? What are you thinking about ? Have you gone 
stark mad ?” 

^‘Sir,” said Jettings, in fearful perplexity, thought 
you were in haste to obtain certain information, and I 
forgot tluat the day was warm in my desire to serve 
you.” 

Well, well,” replied Boshockle, on whom the recol- 
lection of the one hundred dollar bank-note operated as 
a sedative ; did you find Crandall ?” 

Yes, sir,” stammered the young man. 

Where does she live ?” 

In Becket’s Lane.” 

E g 


9 


98 


THE BELLE 0’ BECHET’S LANE. 


Has she a husband 

«Yes, — a Scotchman, who works for old Tom 
Becket/’ 

Are they both foreign born 

The wife is of New England origin.” 

“ How long have they been with Becket?” 

Ten years ; they came from New Hampshire.” 
Have they any children ?” 

No, sir ; that is to say, none of their own blood.” 
Well, of whose blood are they ?” 

They have an adopted daughter, sir.” 

Her name ?” 

Huntly — Margaret Huntly.” 

^^Age?” 

“ Seventeen.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“ Good-night, an’ joy be wi’ you a’, 

We’ll maybe meet again the morn.” 

Barnabas Boshockle was sufficiently alive to drive 
out to old Tom Becketts in the evening. Stopping at the 
farm-house, he ascertained that Becket could be found 
up the lane at number six, and thither Mr. Boshockle 
started. He knew Becket well, and had known him 
for many years ; his character and habits were, there- 
fore, quite familiar to the lawyer, — that is to say, he 
had accepted the popular estimate, and set him down 


“ GOOD-NIGHT. 


99 


as an easy-going, fairly educated, ordinarily honest man, 
^vho had succumbed wholly to his appetite for strong 
drink, and was going to the dogs as fast as possible. 
In fact, as Mr. Boshockle looked back now over the 
period of his acquaintance with Becket, he found it 
difficult to recall a time when he thought him to be 
entirely sober. But it should be observed that Barna- 
bas Boshockle was not a man who would be likely to 
give special thought to any one who did not appear 
before him as a litigant. He took the human family 
as he found it, and left to the clergy the whole busi- 
ness of mourning over the unfortunate spiritual condi- 
tion of men, and the work of qualifying them for a 
better life hereafter. He was, in fact, interested in 
them only in so far as they affected his profession, and 
contributed to his income. 

The twilight had now deepened into darkness. As 
Mr. Boshockle drew near to the first house on the lane, 
he saw a little boy standing in the doorway. Calling 
the ragged urchin to the roadside, he promised him a 
penny if he would guide him to Mr. CrandalPs. The 
child, rejoicing in anticipation of this munificent re- 
ward, marched proudly beside the carriage to the door 
of number six, received the money, an) returned in 
high glee to his home, feeling that he had been won- 
derfully fortunate, and was rapidly turning into a man 
who would soon be able to earn whole pocketsfull of 
pennies. Pennies were not as abundant then as they 
are now, and the poor child felt as happy as if he were 
a millionaire. His little brothers and sisters, as the 
precious coin passed from hand to hand, and was by 


100 BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

each regarded with curious interest in the flickering 
light of a single candle, thought the man must be mar- 
vellously rich who could afford to give so great a sum 
for so small a service, — for a service, in fact, which 
would have been cheerfully rendered without compen- 
sation. 

Mr. Boshockle, having fastened his horse, knocked 
at the door of the humble cabin, and was invited to 
enter. A table occupied the centre of the room, on 
which a couple of candles were irradiating a dim light; 
around this sat Mr. Becket, Margaret, and old Donald. 
Mrs. Crandall had risen to receive from the visitor his 
hat, and offer him a chair. 

\ Mr. Boshockle,’^ said Becket, rising and extending 
his hand, this is Mr. Crandall, Mrs. Crandall, and 
this their daughter. Miss Margaret.” 

I am very glad to know you all,” Mr. Boshockle 
replied. I inquired at your house for you, Mr. 
Becket, but was told you were here, and so took the 
liberty to come, although my business is really so un- 
important that it hardly affords me an excuse for in- 
truding upon strangers.” 

It’s nae intrusion, sir,” said Donald. Ye are 
welcome. Be seated ; Mr. Becket’s frien’s need mak’ 
na apology for cornin’ here.” 

Thank you, Mr. Crandall, and thank you, madam.” 

Margaret had laid down her sewing on Mr. Bos- 
hockle’s entrance, as if the presence of so important a 
personage demanded her whole attention; but Mrs. 
Crandall, having now seated the visitor, resumed her 
knitting, and although she rarely looked at her work 


“ GOOD-NIGHT. 


101 


or gave it a thought, her hands, nevertheless, performed 
their task with a rapidity and accuracy that could only 
have been acquired by many years of patient practice. 
The tidiness of the house, the industry of Mrs. Cran- 
dall, the honest heartiness of old Donald, and the 
beauty of the daughter, but more than all the sobriety 
of Becket, presented to Mr. Boshockle a scene very dif- 
ferent from the one he had expected to find in Becket’s 
Lane, for the very name had become a synonyme of 
poverty, ignorance, discontent, and dissipation. In- 
deed he felt, as he looked into the face of Margaret, 
that he had never seen a lovelier woman, and as for 
Becket, there was apparent in him a quiet self-posses- 
sion and manliness of bearing that Mr. Boshockle had 
never suspected, and which now filled him with aston- 
ishment. 

We sometimes meet men almost daily for years, and 
pass them by with little attention, either as to their 
personal appearance or habits of speech and thought. 
We think we know them, and come to regard them 
with that indifference accorded usually to mediocrity. 
They may be honest indeed, well-meaning people per- 
haps, but are, we think, of no particular consequence 
among men, — just ordinary specimens of that vast 
crowd of mortals who eat, drink, live, die, and are in 
a day forgotten. But after a while the exigency of 
affairs or accident of travel throws us into intimate re- 
lationship with them, and we discover that our first 
impressions were not only stupidly erroneous, but 
grossly absurd ; that, in short, the man we have been 
looking down upon for years has in an instant of time 


102 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE. 


put himself immeasurably above us by revealing a 
vigor of thought, breadth of culture, decisiveness of 
resolution, or energy of action perfectly marvellous. 
Just how much we shrink in our own estimation upon 
making this discovery we are ashamed to confess. 

The Becket of Mr. Boshockle’s 2)revious thought was 
not the Becket before him, and so in the few moments 
occupied by the salutations and inquiries usual between 
either friends or strangers when they meet, the lawyer 
had to reform his line of action and proceed as one 
whose operations might be subjected to vigilant scrutiny. 

I have an inquiry,’^ he said, when he found it had 
become necessary to account for his presence, “ from a 
client who desires a farm. I think this locality would 
suit him, and so ran out this evening, Mr. Becket, to 
ascertain if you knew of one for sale.’’ 

I do not,” Becket answered. And yet I do not 
doubt there are many in this township that can be 
bought. The settlers in a new country are not, as a 
rule, very much attached to their homes.” 

There was a pause in the conversation here, which 
enabled Mr. Crandall to remark, in a general way, — 
It is na licht task, sir, ta clear up a farm i’ this 
new country.” 

“ It is the work of a lifetime,” said Mr. Boshockle, 
and then added, — I conclude, Mr. Crandall, that you 
were not born in this country.” 

“ Only thae half o’ me, sir. Mistress Crandall is o’ 
New England ; I was born i’ Scotland.” 

How long since you left the Old World, Mr. Cran- 
dall ?” 


“ GOOD-NIGHT.^' 103 

Forty an’ twa years, sir. AYe ha’ been marriet 
ower thirty years, hae we nae. Mistress Crandall ?” 

Two years over,” answered his wife. 

We lived in New Hampshire twenty years an’ mair, 
an’ hae been wi’ Mr. Becket ten years.” 

Having satisfied himself on this point, Mr. Boshockle 
now turned to Margaret. 

“ I suppose, young lady, that you have a very good 
school in this neighborhood. Our New England people 
have always manifested a great interest in educational 
matters.” 

“ Indeed, sir,” Margaret replied, looking into Mr. 
Boshockle’s face, my knowledge of schools is not 
great, and I know of no others with which to compare 
ours, but I may say I have had an excellent teacher 
in Mrs. Crandall. She has been very patient with me, 
sir.” 

^^AYheesht, wheesht, bairn,” said Donald, smiling; 
ye hae forgot that I hae tocht ye aboot thae only sen- 
seeble knowledge ye hae i’ ye’re wee head, an’ now ye 
gi’e a’ thae credet ta anither.” 

Oh, no, I do not forget,” replied Margaret, laugh- 
ing. You have taught me much, but mother has 
devoted more time to my instruction.” 

Mair time, ta be sure, but she hae simply groundit 
ye i’ thae rudiments, while I gi’e ye an inklin’ o’ thae 
liigher branches, an’ led ye intil thae pleasant fields o’ 
pheelosophy; but,” he continued, turning to Mr. Bos- 
hockle in the same humorous vein, ‘^ye hae dootless 
observed, Mr. Boshockelder ” 

^‘Boshockle,” interrupted the lawyer. 


104 BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE. 

^^Beg pardon, — ^ye hae dootless observed that thae 
young ne’er realize thae value o’ thae auld folks till 
they are gaun ; an’ so wi’ Margaret : she vvull soomtime 
luk back wi’ tears in her een, an’ say, ‘ Ah, that fine 
auld schollard ! What should I ha’ dune wi’out thae 
preecepts in whilk he indoctrinated me, an’ by thae 
observance o’ whilk I hae managed ta arreeve at a ree- 
spectable auld age ?’ An’ so, Mr. Boshockelder ” 

Boshockle, sir.” 

Acceept my apology — an’ so we maun be conteent 
wi’ takin’ our reward i’ anticipation.” 

Oh, father !” responded Margaret. What a vain 
man you are ; and so inconsistent, too ! How long ago 
was it that you told me self-praise was no praise ?” 

“ Hoo lang is’t, lass ? Na, na, I canna recollect a’ 
thae times I hae gien ye gude advice, but ye maun aye 
bear in min’, my bairn, that e’n thae broadest rules ha’ 
ever their exceptions. Isna that the result o’ your in- 
vestigations, Mr. Boshockelder ?” 

Boshockle, sir.” 

Crave ye’r pardon.” 

I think you are quite right,” Mr. Boshockle re- 
plied. “ It is said ‘ the exception proves the rule.’ ” 

That saying,” said Becket, is, I think, a fallacy. 
The rules of common law, with which Mr. Boshockle 
is more familiar far than I, founded on human practice 
and precedent, may, indeed, be defective, and are cer- 
tainly not uniformly applied, because not universally 
recognized as just; but those rules of law which are 
based upon well-established principles, and those also 
which are embodied in the plain letter of the statute, 


“ OOOD-NIOHT. 


105 

can admit of no exception. So in morals, there can be 
no exception to those rules of action which say ^ Thou 
shalt not kill/ ^Thon shalt not steal, ^ ^Thou shalt not 
bear false witness.’ A rule of law or morals is in- 
tended to be, should be, and is, as exact and invariable 
as a rule of measure or weight.” 

But surely,” Mr. Boshockle said, the man who 
kills another in self-defence, although he violates the 
command ^ Thou shalt not kill,’ is not guilty of crime.” 

Human law or human courts,” replied Becket, 
hold that a man may kill in self-defense, but it is 
not because the courts admit that a rule of law is vari- 
able, it is because the rule itself gives to the courts a 
wide discretion, and affirms that killing in self-defence 
is justifiable. But if God intended that men should 
kill under any circumstances, the exception to the rule 
would have been specifically stated. There are no ex- 
ceptions,-4iowever ; on the contrary, we are told that if 
a man smite you on the right cheek — you may kill ? 
No, you must turn to him the left. The human judge 
may acquit the offender, the higher judge, knowing the 
man’s weakness, and the provocation or temptation, may 
forgive him, but these acts do not prove that either God 
or man admits that a rule laid down may be sometimes 
observed and at others not, for this admission would 
leave the man free to exercise his own discretion unfet- 
tered by law.” 

The tones of a rich voice, when combined with earnest- 
ness of delivery, frequently give to a speech having no 
intrinsic merit the full effect of unanswerable argument; 
and so it was in this instance. Mr. Boshockle did not 


106 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET'S LANE. 


seek to continue the discussion, and old Donald retired 
from it by saying, — 

Ne’rtlieless, that there are exceptions, ta a’ rules is 
an auld maxim, foundet upo’ thae experience o’ mony 
generations; an’ while Mr. Becket may seem ta hae thae 
best o’ thae argument, it is simply because we ha’ na 
thae time ta gang ta thae root o’ thae matter, an’ expose 
thae sophistical character o’ his speculations.” 

Father,” said Margaret, with a mischievous twinkle 
in her brown eyes, that seems to me to be a very easy 
way to escape. You should at least have credit for 
withdrawing in good order.” 

Wheesht, wheesht, my chiel. Thae subjec’ is ower 
deep fo’ ye’r comprehension. I’m nae tryin’ ta escape. 
I scorn ta flee frae my adversary; but I min’ me, noo, 
’twad please me to hae ]\Ir. Boshockelder ” 

‘^Boshockle, my friend.” 

Acceept my humble apology, — ta ha’ him hear that 
las’ Scotch sang in ^ Blackwood’s ;’ that’s a gran’ maga- 
zine, sir.” 

“ No, no, father. Mr. Boshockle, I am quite sure ” 

Indeed, I would,” interrupted the lawyer. 

O’ coorse, o’ coorse he wad,” cried Donald. “ Wha 
wadna wus ta hear a gude Scotch sang ? It stirs thae 
bluid like a whiff o’ hieland air.” 

Well, well, father Crandall,” said Margaret, laugh- 
ing, ^4he responsibility rests with you.” 

An’ I accept it, my lass.” 

She sang, — 

“Farewell, farewell, beggarly Scotland, 

Cold and beggarly poor countrie.” 


“ GOOD-NIGHT.^’ 


107 


“ Haud ! hand ! that is nae it/^ cried Donald. 

“If ever I cross thy border again, 

The muckle deil must carry me.” 

Awfu’, awfu’/^ said Donald. Gie us somewhat 
truthfu’ an^ gude. Min^ ye are i’ thae presence o’ 
strangers.” 

Margaret, repressing her mirth, with a voice of great 
richness, and expressive of much feeling, now sang, — 

“ The night is wearing to the wane, 

And daylight glimmering east awa’. 

The little sternies dance amain. 

And the moon bobs aboon the shaw. 

But though the tempest tout and blaw 
Upon his loudest midnight horn. 

Good-night, an’ joy be wi’ you a’. 

We’ll maybe meet again the morn. 

“ 0 we hae wandered far an’ wide 

O’er Scotia’s land of firth and fell ; 

And many a bonny fiower we’ve pu’d. 

And twined them with the heather-bell. 

We’ve ranged the dingle and the dell. 

The hamlet and the baron’s ha’. 

Now let us take a kind farewell — 

Good-night, and joy be wi’ you a’.” * 

verra gude Scotch song,” said Donald, whose 
thoughts had been carried back to the mountains and 

O 

glens familiar to him in boyhood. Verra gude, my 
lass.” 


* From “ Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine.” 


108 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


And exceedingly well sung,” remarked Mr. Bos- 
hockle. 

Becket simply indicated his approval by a nod. He 
was, in fact, wandering in reverie beside still waters 
that went rippling softly amid green meadows and 
gentle slopes, now sparkling in the sunshine, then loiter- 
ing in the shadow, and so pushing joyfully and con- 
tentedly oil to a boundless eternity of sea ; and on the 
margin of these streams, and amid these pleasant scenes, 
he caught glimpses of a delightful companionship 
which should continue happily to the threshold of the 
other world, where hopeful hearts would strike hands 
and sing together, — 

“ Good-night, an’ joy he wi’ you a’, 

We’!! maybe meet again the morn.” 

When Mr. Boshockle finally rose to depart, Becket 
accompanied him, and accepted a seat in his carriage. 
As they proceeded leisurely down the lane, the lawyer 
observed, — 

That is an interesting family.” 

“ Good people,” responded Becket. 

The resemblance between the daughter and parents 
is so slight that one would hardly take her to be their 
child.” 

“ She is not.” 

Indeed !” exclaimed the lawyer. Who were her 
parents ?” 

I know nothing of her parentage,” Becket replied, 
save that her father and mother were temporarily my 


“ GOOD-NIGHT.^’ 


109 


tenants, and were buried from this farm. She is an 
orphan — the adopted daughter of the Crandalls.’^ 

Well, she is certainly a very lovely and interesting 
girl,^’ Mr. Boschockle said, warmly. 

Becket made no response to this, and when they 
reached the public highway he bade good-night to the 
lawyer, and entered his own house. 

Mr. Boshockle’s letter to the Hon. George W. Jones, 
written on the following day, embodied all the material 
facts detailed in this and the preceding chapter. His 
opinion of Mrs. Crandall was a favorable one, his 
references to old Donald were respectful, and his allu- 
sions to their adopted daughter were quite compliment- 
ary. In fact, Mr. Boshockle left the humble home 
of the Crandalls with more cheerful views of life than 
he had carried thither; he could look around upon 
few homes indeed where there were evidences of more 
real enjoyment than he had found within the bare walls 
of their lowly cabin. 


10 


no 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET'S LANE. 


CHAPTER Xiy. 

GANNA PART Wl’ HER AN^ WE SHALLNA.” 

Near the middle of October a little party of tour- 
ists, who had been seeking the cooler atmosphere of the 
northern lakes during the heated term and were now 
on their way to the sea-board, stopped over for a day or 
two at Rockboro’. The scene of a great naval battle 
lay not far away, and they desired not only to look 
upon a spot memorable in history, but were curious 
also to explore the cluster of islands, still clothed in 
primal mystery, which rose in its vicinity, like minia- 
ture continents above the bosom of the lake. There 
were six of the party, two gentlemen, their wives and 
two servants. The morning after their arrival was 
fair, and gave promise of a pleasant day. There was 
a stiff wind indeed stirring the surface of the hand- 
some bay, upon which they looked from the windows 
of their hotel ; and out beyond the peninsula and the 
light-house they could see by the white caps on the 
open lake that a still stronger breeze was sweeping over 
its waters ; but not one, they thought, from which they 
had reason to apprehend danger. In fact, they had 
now been too long familiar with winds and water to be 
deterred by any ordinary sea from following the bent 
of their inclinations. Only three of the party pro- 
posed to go to the islands ; the servants were to be left 


CANNA PART WT HER.'^ 


Ill 


behind, and one of the gentlemen pleaded either fatigue 
or lack of interest, and so excused himself from accom- 
panying, his companions. After the little yacht which 
bore the excursionists had gotten fairly under way, the 
gentleman who remained behind walked leisurely from 
the wharf back to the hotel, and after ordering an 
open carriage, retired to his room, put on a hunting- 
suit, and taking his gun and game-bag, descended 
to the office, where he lighted a cigar and sat down 
to await the coming of his conveyance. The delay 
was but a brief one, and when finally seated in the 
wagon, he directed the driver to proceed to the Becket 
farm. 

The gentleman who had thus started out for a day’s 
sport, after excusing himself from what might have 
been regarded as a pleasanter engagement, and one cer- 
tainly far less fatiguing, was in person large and in- 
clined to corpulency ; his Jiair, originally very dark, 
was now plentifully intermixed with gray. There was 
a quiet, confident, authoritative air about him, indi- 
cating that while unaccustomed to opposition, he was 
nevertheless fully conversant with the habits of good 
society and obedient to their slightest promptings. 

^^Do you know Becket?” he inquired of the driver. 

^^Yes, sir; old Tom is well known here. The 
family is a good one, but he’s not a credit to it.” 

Why not?” 

He is a drunken, worthless fellow, sir ; one who had 
a good start in life, but has made poor use of it. He 
simply manages to live, where a sober, industrious man 
would grow rich.” 


112 THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 

The conversation ended here, but after a half 
hour of silence the driver drew in his horses, and 
said, — 

This is Becket’s house, sir.” 

Ascertain if he is in.” 

The driver, on going to the house, found that Becket 
was not in, but was supposed to be on the farm some- 
where. The person in charge sounded a horn to sum- 
mon him. 

The gentleman, getting down now from the wagon, 
and lighting a fresh cigar, walked to and fro on the 
roadside, evidently occupied with other thoughts than 
any likely to be suggested by his surroundings. He 
was soon, however, aroused from his reverie by ap- 
proaching footsteps, and, turning, said, — 

Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Becket ?” 

‘^Na, na, sir; Mr. Becket started aff i’ thae early 
morn wf his gun, an’ may remain away ower thae 
nicht.” 

regret that, and I fear I may have troubled you. 
unnecessarily ; but I had an idle day and thought I 
would spend it in the woods. I stopped simply to ask 
Mr. Becket’s permission to shoot over his place.” 

“ There’s nae objection ta ye’r shootin’, sir ; Mr. 
Becket wad tell ye that ; thae woods an’ fields i’ this 
new country are open an’ free ta a’. There’s nae re- 
striction upon any one.” 

“ Thank you. But now, if permitted, I will ask 
another favor. I am a stranger here. Will you go 
with me?” 

“ I hae my ain duties ta perform, sir, an’ spen’ little 


fFE CANNA PART WT HER.' 


113 


time i’ idleness or sport ; an’ besides my time reeght- 
fiilly belangs ta anither.” 

“ Oh, well, if you cannot go, I shall have no more 
to say ; but I would be very glad to comj^eusate you for 
the time.” 

I ken weel enough wdiat Mr. Becket wad say,” the 
old man answered, thoughtfully. He wad tell me ta 
gang wi’ ye, an’ maybe he wadna like it if I didna. 
Driver, stable ye’r beasts yonner. I wull gang wi’ ye, 
sir.” 

The two men started for the fields, but finding on 
the prairie but few birds the stranger cared to try his 
skill upon, they finally entered the big woods to the 
north, and walked leisurely forward until they came to 
the brook. This they followed westwardly, and al- 
though the stranger, for want possibly of recent prac- 
tice, was not a first-class shot, he nevertheless met with 
reasonable success, and in the course of a few hours 
bagged all the game he desired. Leaving the woods 
now, they stopped for a few moments for rest at the 
spring on the edge of the prairie-land, and then enter- 
ing the lane turned towards Becket’s house. 

The stranger, especially observant now, walked on 
slowly, and upon reaching the first cabin looked at it 
sharply for an instant, and then turning to the old man, 
said, — 

The appearance of this cabin strikes me as particu- 
larly clean and inviting. Would it be thought im- 
proper to ask here for a bowl of bread and milk ?” 

“ Na, na, sir ; had I thocht yer honor wad a been 
conteent ta sup wi’ a puir mon i’ a humble way, I wad 
h 10* 


I 


114 the belle O’ BECHET’S LANE 

nae hae gien ye opportunity to ask thae question. ’Tis 
ray harae, sir ; walk i’ thae house.’^ 

As they approached the open door, Donald’s wife 
appeared on the threshold. 

Mistress Crandall,” said the old man, “ this gentle- 
man wad like a bowl o’ milk an’ a plate o’ bread. Can 
ye gie them ta him ?” 

Certainly ; but will you not have something more 
substantial ?” And Mrs. Crandall, looking toward the 
stranger, added, It will give me no trouble ; none at 
all.” 

Nothing more for me, madam,” the stranger re- 
plied, as he entered the cabin ; nothing else would 
suit me half so well.” 

Be seated, sir. I shall have it ready very soon.” 
Mrs. Crandall retired to the kitchen, and pretty soon 
Margaret, entering the room, saluted Donald with a 
cheerful nod and pleasant word, courtsied gracefully to 
the stranger, and then opening a drawer took from it 
a snowy spread of home-made linen and laid it over 
the rough table. She wore the whitest of white aprons, 
extending from shoulders to waist, and thence almost to 
her feet. The cluster of wild rosebuds at her throat 
was her only ornament ; but had she been attired in the 
richest costume and decked with the most brilliant jew- 
els she could not have been more lovely than she was. 
At her appearance the stranger’s face grew for an in- 
stant unnaturally white, and he seemed to tremble un- 
der the influence of strong emotion; indeed, his eyes 
followed the girl with such unremitting vigilance that 
old Donald suspected that after all his purpose was sim- 


WE CANNA PART WP HERP 


115 


ply to see Margaret, and that all else had been pretexts 
to this end. Bat while these thoughts were passing 
through Donald’s mind, Margaret had prepared the 
table ; returning now to the kitchen, she soon reappeared 
with a pitcher of milk, followed by Mrs. Crandall with 
a tray of bread. The stranger partook of the meal in 
silence, but with evident relish. Rising from the table, 
he stood hesitating for a moment, as if meditating some 
act of doubtful propriety, and finally, as if resolved, 
turning to Margaret, he said, — 

Years ago, and many, many miles from here, I saw 
a face wonderfully like yours. The resemblance may 
be accidental, it may possibly be altogether an imaginary 
one, but it nevertheless strikes me as most marvellous.” 

Margaret looked up in surprise. She could think of 
no answer suitable to such a speech, and, with rising 
color, stood silent. 

“Look at this,” he continued, placing a locket in 
her hand containing a miniature. “Does it remind 
you of a face once familiar to you ?” 

Margaret took the tiny picture with eager curiosity, 
and gazing steadily upon it for a moment, looked into 
the stranger’s face with tearful eyes, and said, — 

“ It is my mother, as I recollect to have seen her in 
my childhood.” 

“ There can be no doubt of that,” the stranger re- 
plied. “ And no one who ever knew her in youth can 
question for a moment that you are Caroline Iredell’s 
daughter.” 

“And you,” said Mrs. Crandall, with quivering 
voice, “ are Senator Landon, of North Carolina ?” 


11(J THE BELLE 0’ BECKETS LANE. 

^^Yes, madam! Mr. Crandall, you will, I trust, 
pardon me for my indirectness. A letter from your 
good wife first excited my curiosity, and subsequent 
communications from confidential sources in this vicinity 
led me to think that possibly the daughter of an old 
and very dear friend had by some freak of fortune 
found her way hither, and I came to satisfy myself 
that my conjectures were either true or false. I find 
them true, although perhaps it would have been better 
for some persons very near to me if I had found them 
false. If I have hitherto been slow to act, or if after 
coming here I hesitated for a time as to what course to 
take, it was not from any consideration personal to my- 
self. On the contrary, it was because I realized fully 
what effect the discovery might have upon the fortunes 
of others. But my duty lies plain before me now, and 
I shall discharge it regardless of consequences.^^ 

^^Weel, weel, mon,’’ began Donald, solemnly, 
trust this doesna mean that we shall e’er be called upo’ 
ta part wi’ Margaret. We canna consent to that. Sen- 
ator Landon; ’twad break a’ our hearts.” 

No, no, there can be no separation from — from my 
friends ; of course not. Why should there be, indeed ?” 
the girl said, hurriedly, as if alarmed at the sugges- 
tion. 

Are you so attached to your home here that you 
could not be induced to leave it?” Mr. Landon asked. 

Suppose one more — more elegant should be found?” 

There can be none dearer to me than this,” Mar- 
garet replied, with tears in her eyes. It may seem 
rough and poor to you, Senator Landon, but the hap- 


‘‘WE CANNA PART WT HER/' II7 

piest years of my life have been passed' here, and — and 
I could not leave it. No, n,o, I will not think of 
that.^^ 

She is our bairn,’’ broke in old Donald, now thor- 
oughly aroused. Her mither gie her ta us wi’ her 
deeing breath. We canna part wi’ her, an’ we shallna. 
What signeefies ye’r mair elegant hames, if they ha’ 
na thae power ta gie ta thae possessor a pure heart 
an’ conteented spirit ? I tell ye, mon, the chiel is ours, 
and shall remain wi’ us.” The old man had now risen 
to his feet, and his gray eyes flashed angrily as he con- 
tinued, ^^Ye may ha’ goud an’ siller, ye may ha’ 
braw houses, an’ ye may ha’ gret possessions, but these 
are aye linked wi’ thae canker o’ idleness, worritin’ 
cares, an’ destroyin’ vices that gars thae heartache, an’ 
maks life a burthen. We shallna part wi’ her for a’ 
thae goud i’ North Carolina !” 

My good friend,” said Landon, I do not ask you 
to part from her.” 

Ye sought ta tempt her wi’ suggeestions o’ a mair 
elegant hame. Didna that hint at a seeparation ?” 

That home might be yours as well as hers.” 

Na, na, I want nae better, nor does thae lass. We 
are conteented an’ happy here, an’ thae glide God ha’ 
been ower kin’ ta us. Why should we seek a change ? 
I wad nae say aught that doesna becoom a mon o’ my 
rank i’ life to ane i’ yours ; but, wi’ a’ respeck, I tell ye 
gang thy way. Senator Landon, i’ ye’r ain gait, an’ 
leave us as we are.” 

Well, well, Mr. Crandall, I do not know what the 
future may develop, and I will not now say what is in 


118 THE BELLE 0 ’ BECHET'S LANE. 

my mind, but it occurred to me that Margaret’s friends 
might be induced to go with her in ca^ she were to 
enter upon a new life — a better one, perhaps.” 

There could be no better one,” replied the girl 
calmly, and with much firmness ; there could be no 
better life, Senator Landon. And besides that,” she 
continued, with rising color, my — my friends would 
not all go. I — I am quite sure some of them would 
not.” 

Mr. Landon thought he discovered that there was at 
least one friend who possibly would not go, from whom 
the girl herself could not be induced to separate, but 
he did not insist upon the matter further. He did not 
even know himself what course it would be best to 
pursue, but now that all doubt was removed as to the 
girl’s identity, he could consider the subject at his 
leisure, and decide deliberately as to further action. 
He certainly thought none the less of Margaret because 
of her grateful attachment to her humble home and 
friends, although there seemed to be an incongruity 
almost painful between the lovely girl and her rude 
surroundings. 

The miniature had passed from hand to hand, and 
its astonishing likeness to the daughter was observed 
and commented upon. When Margaret was now about 
to return it to Mr. Landon, he said, — 

Keep it, my child. I brought it with me to-day 
because I thought I might have occasion to recall the 
face of my old friend as vividly as possible. It sug- 
gests to my mind a flood of tender memories, but it 
should be in your keeping now.” 


JFE CANJVA PART WP II ER.^’ 


119 


Senator/^ said Margaret, softly, leaning over his 
chair, and looking down upon him, have what you 
would perhaps like. Things that have been treasured 
secretly for years and years, as people hoard their most 
precious jewels. That they were very dear to her 
always I cannot doubt.’^ 

Going to her room, she returned immediately and 
laid a little package of old letters in his hand. He 
glanced at them, and then looking up, said, — 

Yes, the story is told here. I understand now why 
Mrs. Crandall wrote to me, and how I came to find 
you.’’ Rising to depart, he continued, '^You shall 
hear from me again. I have much indeed to say, but 
feel that this is not the time to speak. Mrs. Crandall, 
I thank you for your kindness. Mr. Crandall, you 
will walk with me, I trust, to the road. Margaret, I 
shall hope to see you again, if not here, perhaps in 
North Carolina.” As he shook hands with her at the 
door he added, Who knows what may turn up for 
you ? Good-by.” 

When the two men reached Becket’s house, and were 
about to separate, Mr. Landon took a piece of gold from 
his pocket and offered it to Donald. 

I hae nae change wi’ me, sir.” 

‘‘ I want no change. Take it all, my friend.” 

Na, na, my time wad be valued at maybe four 
shillings. I canna tak mair, an’ wadna wish to offer 
ta my employer less, for my time is his. He’s a shift- 
less, careless body, wha maybe wadna like ta tak thae 
money, but my aiu duty ta offer it ta him remains thae 
same, whether he wull or nae.” 


120 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


there are eight shillings; four for you and 
four for him.” 

Gie me thae four for him. He’ll pay thae four 
that’s due to me. Kicht’s richt. What I wadna gie 
ta you, ye maunna seek to gie to me ; for i’ this country 
we a’ stan’ upo’ ane common level o’ equality.” 


CHAPTER XY. 

THANK GOD FOR THAT.” 

The stiff wind of the morning had gradually in- 
creased, until toward evening it had developed into a 
violent gale. Kundassy Bay was stirred to its lowest 
depths, and its discolored waters came tumbling shore- 
ward in great waves tipped with angry foam. The day 
was cloudless. The little island, covered with un- 
broken forest, just across the inlet, stood up outlined so 
vividly and brightly in the glare of the declining sun 
that it seemed marvellously near. Eastward the dome 
of the Narrowpoint beacon was all aflame with reflected 
light. The scraggy cedars encompassing its base were 
tinged with yellow, and beyond in the same direction 
as far as the eye could reach the great dark billows of 
the lake, in their contest with the wind, rose, tossing 
from their crests sparkling flakes of spray, then break- 
ing, fell into great seething chrasms. The surging 
waters flinging their white-caps to the sky suggested 


“ THANK GOD FOR THAT.' 


121 


that the spirit of the deep, engaged in a mad frolic 
with the wind, was laughing scornful defiance at its 
bodiless adversary, taunting him to come on with 
heavier blows if he could. And the wind, nothing 
daunted by the boastful challenges of its more solid foe, 
rushed down upon him with countless lashes that 
whistled and shrieked about his writhing form like in- 
furiate demons. A little toddling boy, who held his 
hat on his head with both hands as he steadied himself 
against the steps of the village hotel, exclaimed, — 

My oyes ! but it do blow.” 

He was right. It did. 

Two schooners lay in the harbor rolling and pitching 
as if at any moment they might break their moorings 
and go scudding before the tempest under bare poles. 
One sloop, with sails almost wholly reefed,* had suc- 
ceeded in making the turn opposite Narrowpoint 
light, and entering the inlet; but even in this compara- 
tively safer sea it rocked on the angry waters as if at 
any moment it might be pitched headlong to the bot- 
tom. Still farther out on the lake, so far, indeed, that 
naked topmasts and flying streamers only were visible, 
were other vessels, but these attracted no special atten- 
tion from those assembled on the veranda of the Rock- 
boro’ hotel. Their eyes were fixed intently on a gray 
speck beyond the Narrowpoint light, and to the left 
of it, apparently far out in the open lake. A glass had 
revealed the fact that this was the little yacht which 
had gone to the islands in the early morning, and the 
wonder was that in such a sea it had had the temerity 
to undertake to return. But sailors and those accus- 


122 ' BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

tomed to the violence of winds and waves come finally 
to regard them with indifference, and habit, after all, 
makes men seem brave or cowardly. The wind, al- 
though violent, was favorable to a speedy return. The 
master of the yacht had doubtless a pride and confi- 
dence in his little vessel which would not allow him to 
admit that it could not safely ride any sea. There are 
those, too, who seem to be stupidly apathetic, and but 
half awake to the concerns of life in times of trail-' 
quillity, who, when danger threatens, become aroused at 
once, and spring to meet it with an impetuosity that 
will brook no delay. The hope of winning gold is 
no greater incentive to the miser than the prospect of 
encountering peril is to certain gallant and reckless souls. 
The master of this yacht may have been one of these ; 
but whatever the motive was which induced the little 
party to set out on the homeward voyage, it is certain 
they had done so, and that that speck dancing far out 
on the surging waters was, under God, their sole reli- 
ance now. 

To one man on the hotel balcony this was an hour 
of terrible anxiety and alarm. He stood leaning for 
support against the wall, pale, trembling, and silent. 
There were times when the little craft disappeared en- 
tirely for an instant, and at such periods his intense 
suffering was absolutely painful to witness. But the 
brave yacht reappeared again, and came booming nearer 
and nearer, yet still miles out in the open lake. 

She will make it,’^ said one, if they do not put 
her round the point too sharply. Our only ground for 
fear is that she will get in the trough of the sea, and 


THANK GOD FOR THAT.” 


123 


with broadside to both wind and waves capsize and go 
down/^ 

The craft is too light for such a wind/^ said 
another. 

She’ll make it/’ responded a sailor. I have been 
out on worse days than this. She’ll make it if rightly 
handled, and Bowman knows how to handle her.” 

Thank God for that encouragement,” Senator Lan- 
don said to himself. I should have gone with them, 
or rather, I should have deterred them from going, for 
I thought the morning wind too high for such a boat.” 

There are periods when the littleness of the finite is 
put in such sharp contrast with the overpowering mag- 
nitude of the infinite, that even the brave stand para- 
lyzed and helpless, and Landon never before realized 
how utterly weak and insignificant the strongest of men 
are, as he did in this fearful hour when his wife and 
children were the sport and plaything of the elements. 

The wind came from the north — a little west of 
north — and, as one of the spectators had said, the 
greatest danger to the yacht would be in veering west- 
ward so as to round the peninsula opposite Narrow- 
point light and enter the mouth of the bay. The 
space was wide enough, but the change of direction 
would put both wind and waves on her side, and it was 
very doubtful whether she could stand up against 
them. In case, however, the yacht should not be able 
to make so sharp a turn with safety in so strong a wind 
and rough a sea, it was hoped that the captain would 
make the discovery in time, and as a last resort run her 
aground on Narrowpoint beach, and so save the pas- 


124 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


sengers. While these possibilities of the situation were 
being earnestly and anxiously discussed, the sun had 
gone down, and twilight had come creeping on. The 
little craft, however, had come full to the turning point, 
and was still visible from the balcony of the hotel. As 
she tacked sharply to enter the bay, she stood appa- 
rently chopping on the waves for an instant, then sank 
lengthwise in the trough of the sea, and was lost to 
sight, but the next moment she was indistinctly seen 
lying on her side, and almost submerged. A skiff now 
shot out from the Narrowpoint light-house, and has- 
tened toward the distressed vessel. Sometimes in the 
indistinctness of the fast deepening twilight it was lost 
amid the foam of the churning waters, but it reappeared 
again, and drove forward, impelled by the vigorous 
strokes of a strong arm and dauntless heart. It was a 
moment of intense anxiety to the spectators. The little 
boat hurrying to the rescue seemed but a speck in con- 
trast with the power and magnitude of the waves with 
which it was contending. Those on the hotel balcony 
whose vision was most acute, affirmed that it reached 
the scene of the disaster, but with the utmost straining 
of the eyes they could make out nothing more, and so 
stood quivering in painful suspense, listening to the 
shrill whistle of the winds and the deep roar of the 
angry waters. 

When the lamps were lighted in the hotel office, Mr. 
Landon sat there for a while to hear the various con- 
jectures of the village people as to the possible fate of 
the unfortunate excursionists. As these afforded him no 
encouragement, however, he finally retired to his room ; 


THANK QOD FOR THAT. 


125 


but he could not sleep ; he could not even content him- 
self to lie down. Those who lingered in the office 
below could hear him tramping to and fro above them, 
with a restless energy indicative of a deeply sorrowing 
heart. 

A little after midnight a loud knock aroused the 
hotel clerk from a half-conscious slumber. Rising 
from his temporary bed, he unbolted the door, when a 
roughly dressed man entered the office and inquired for 
Senator Landon. 

He is in his room,’^ the night-clerk answered, with 
a yawn. 

Give me a scrap of paper,” the man said, stepping 
to the desk. 

A sheet of paper was laid before him. After writing 
a few words he handed the folded note to the clerk, 
and bade him deliver it at once to Mr. Landon. 

All right, sir ; he is still awake. That tread is his 
you hear above you. He has been walking the room 
since dark.” 

That note is important. It will give him rest.” 

Mr, Landon opened the note a moment after with 
trembling hand, and, reading it, exclaimed, — 

Thank God for that !” 

Rushing down to the office, he demanded, — 

Where is Becket ?” 

I do not know,” replied the clerk. 

I mean the man who sent this message.” 

So do I, sir. He left before I returned from your 
room. I looked for him because I thought he might 
want a night’s lodging.” 


11 * 


126 


THE BELLE 0’ BECKETS LANE. 


Becket had since eight o’clock in the evening travelled 
on foot from Narrowpoint beacon five miles southward 
along the peninsula to a place nearly opposite his own 
farm. There he had taken his boat, crossed an arm of 
the inlet to the mouth of the creek, followed the stream 
to his own place, saddled a horse, galloped to the 
village, and was now hastening home. 


CHAPTEK XVI. 

AUNT MARTHA 

On the next morning the bay was still very rough, 
but the wind had subsided. As soon as a yacht could 
be obtained for the purpose, Mr. Landon proceeded to 
Narrowpoint, and returned to the village with his 
family. Aunt Martha Becket came with them. In 
fact, Mrs. Landon and Mrs. Landon’s daughter-in-law 
would not set foot on the little vessel until Aunt Martha 
consented to bear them company. This latter lady was 
the wife of the keeper of Narrowpoint light. She 
had not only won the affection of the rescued party by 
her unwearied attention to their wants, but had also im- 
pressed them as being a woman of extensive culture. 
Her knowledge of political affairs and historical char- 
acters was absolutely marvellous. The names, personal 
peculiarities, and connections by blood and marriage 
of every noble family of Europe, were as familiar to 


AUNT MARTHA. 


127 


her as the lamps in the dome of the light-house. Nor 
was she one whit less informed with respect to the 
prominent individuals of her own country. Having 
no children upon whom to expend her energies, she had 
taken to politics at first for pastime, and finally because 
she found the subject one of intense interest to her. 
Her husband, a large, indolent man, had in youth 
borne a reputation which the good regarded with far 
more regret than envy. Apprenticed to a tradesman in 
Dublin by a thrifty father who thought his son should 
be early taught some useful vocation, he had at the first 
opportune moment ran away from his master and joined 
a company of strolling actors. In the capacity of a 
lively Irish comedian he had made the rounds of the 
British Islands, and subsequently coming to America, 
had entered again upon the same brilliant career. At 
a town in central New York, where he had been filling 
an engagement of a night or two, he accidentally formed 
the acquaintance of Martha Winters, then a girl of seven- 
teen, persuaded her to elope with him to an adjoining 
village, where they were duly married, and from this 
most unpromising start they had now held together for 
over forty years. Some time after their marriage the 
husband grew weary of his itinerant life, purchased a 
country newspaper, became its editor, and so drifted 
into politics. The materials for her husband’s editorials 
were all gathered and arranged by the more industrious 
wife, and thus it was that Aunt Martha had come to be 
a politician, and to interest herself in the notable men 
and women of the world. 

Her husband’s father, at his death, had bequeathed 


128 THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 

to her husband the princely sum of one shilling sterling 
money, but the executor of the estate had for some 
reason defaulted in the payment, possibly because he 
could not find the legatee, and so obtain a legal acquit- 
tance of the trust. And as Aunt Martha’s husband 
lacked both the industry to work and the disposition 
to save, it turned out that they had all their lives 
been poor, but generally not destitute of either food or 
clothing, for like the young ravens they had by a 
kind providence never been left wholly unprovided 
for. 

With all his foibles. Aunt Martha esteemed her 
husband, and bore no love for those who spoke of him 
unkindly. In fact, the man in his old age was a 
gentle, quiet, genial fellow, sometimes a little choleric 
and combative, but generally ready enough to tell a 
story, discuss the newspaper or his grog, and make 
himself companionable. He would have made a capi- 
tal king for a people inclined to be indulgent. In 
truth, he had tried this r6le before the footlights quite 
often, and acquitted himself with honor. Or he would 
have been an excellent nobleman of large estate whose 
chief duties were to dispose of his full quota of broiled 
venison, lift the wassail-bowl, lie under the table, or be 
put to bed with his spurs on. But with all his ad- 
mirable qualities and capacities for good things, it must 
be confessed that he was not well fitted for the ordinary 
concerns of life, and wholly unqualified to hew his 
own way through the world. In fact. Uncle Ben 
Becket, Aunt Martha’s husband, the keeper of the 
Narrowpoint light, had early in life acquired an aver- 


AUNT MARTHA. 129 

sion to manual labor v/hich had grown upon him with 
the years. 

Thomas Becket, the proprietor of Becketts Lane, was 
the nephew of Benjamin, and supposed to have inher- 
ited in some collateral way a good deal of his uncle^s 
worthlessness. If, however, any one had intimated to 
!A.unt Martha that either her husband or her husband’s 
nephew, popularly known as Old Tom, were not models 
of their kind, she would have embarked at once upon 
a sea of invective, and landed finally on a continent of 
eulogy ; for, as we have said, she esteemed her husband, 
and as he was too indifferent to the opinions of others 
to justify himself, she had at an early period of her 
married life learned to take up the cudgel in his de- 
fence, and wield it with a mastery that was irresistible. 
As for Thomas Becket, of Becket’s farm, he was, in 
Aunt Martha’s judgment, the flower of his family, a 
worthy representative of those sainted Beckets who had 
so long been quietly sleeping in the church-yard of a 
little old Irish town that the good things on their mon- 
uments were accepted as a reliable summary of their 
virtues. 

In Aunt Martha’s judgment the Becket stock was 
good, and Tom the fortunate inheritor of all the excel- 
lent qualities of his ancestors. This opinion of the 
nephew may have, to some extent, resulted from the 
fact that Tom never failed to remember the old couple 
in a careless, generous way, but if this were so, An t 
Martha was wholly unconscious of it. Without chil- 
dren herself, she had possibly come to love him in 
childhood as she would have cherished an only son, 


130 the belle O’ BECKETS LANE. 

and this motherly affection for him had continued to the 
present hour. Let all this, however, be as it may, the 
fact nevertheless remains that Aunt Martha regarded 
her nephew as a man of great merit and fine promise. 
Nor was she just now alone in this. In the trip from 
Narrowpoint light to the village. Senator Landon had 
heard little of anybody save Tom Becket. Aunt 
Martha was in love with him, Mrs. Landon was in 
love with him, and Mrs. Landon’s daughter-in-law was 
in love with him. And Mr. Charles Landon, the 
daughter-in-law’s husband, could not speak in terms 
too eulogistic of Becket’s courage and generosity, for 
he it was who, at the peril of his life, had by almost 
superhuman efforts snatched them and one other from 
the angry waters, and carried them safely to the com- 
fortable shelter of the Narrowpoint light-house. It 
was a brave thing to do, and it was done bravely. 
When they had been nicely housed and well provided . 
for he had stolen away without waiting for their 
thanks. 

He knew,’’ said Landon, senior, that there was 
one across the bay who was then infinitely more miser- 
able than yourselves, and he took the further risk 
necessary to relieve him also.” 

I must see Mr. Becket before we leave,” said Mrs. 
Charles Landon, emphatically. In fact, I shall not 
leave until I do see him, for I cannot rest contented 
until I thank him for my own life, and that of my 
husband and mother.” 

You will see him,” said Aunt Martha. 

“ Beally,” exclaimed Mr. Charles Landon, laughing, 


AUNT MARTHA. 


131 


I fear, father, we may lose our wives. They do not 
think of us any more. It is all Becket now.^’ 

Yes,’^ the senator replied, pleasantly, the sooner 
we get away from here the better. Their heads are com- 
pletely turned, and the worst of it is he’s a bachelor.” 

That’s bad enough,” continued the son ; but I 
think our greatest danger lies in the fact that Aunt 
Martha here is his ally. We could cope with the man 
alone, but to have two in league against us is, I fear, 
too much for our mettle.” 

I really think it is,” said Mrs. Charles Landon. 
“ As for me, I am ready to capitulate at once.” 

We shall treat you well, my dear,” said Aunt 
Martha. We need a few good helpers at the Yarrow- 
point light; let your husbands go. Husbands very 
often turn out badly, any way.” 

I hope you do not speak from your own experi- 
ence, Aunt Martha,” said the elder Landon, jocosely. 

Yo, no. I assure you, Senator Landon, mine is the 
best of his kind. I would have abandoned him long: 
ago if he had not been.” 

Through Aunt Martha’s influence, therefore, it came 
about that the Becket sisters called upon the Landons 
at their hotel, and subsequently invited them to tea. 
During the afternoon Aunt Martha sent a message to 
Mr. Thomas Becket, asking him to meet her at his 
mother’s house in the evening, and Mrs. Becket, with 
whom Mrs. Crandall and Margaret were prime favorites, 
— for she attributed the great change in her son to their 
good influence, — sent the carriage for them, with a 
request that they should not fail to come. 


132 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


CHAPTEE Xyil. 

I PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU WITH A SECRET.” 

Aunt Martha Becket would have been perfectly 
at ease in the presence of the combined nobility of the 
world, male and female. She had read of those prom- 
inent in history, thought of them, and talked of them, 
until she had come to feel that they were old and inti- 
mate acquaintances, between whom and herself there 
existed the most cordial relations ; so that the proposed 
entertainment of this North Carolina family at the 
Becket house was regarded by her without a shadow 
of anxiety. It was, in fact, no more than the coming 
of any other reputable people, and she gave no thought 
or care as to what she should say, or how she should 
act. They, like herself, were of the world worldly, and 
what was good enough for her was, she did not for a 
moment question, abundantly good for them. Those 
who possess the happy faculty of looking upon others 
with this, in one sense, easy indifference, are certainly 
to be envied for the many comfortable hours they snatch 
from life, which, to people less fortunately constituted, 
are made miserable by little anxieties and fears, in the 
main imaginary, but no less annoying than if well 
founded. 

Mother Becket, a modest, sensitive woman, grown 
distrustful of her own power to please, although ex- 


PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU. 


133 


ceedingly anxious to extend to these strangers a gener- 
ous welcome, could see little in her modest surroundings 
at all likely to interest them, and so contribute to their 
pleasant entertainment. She found it difficult to bring 
herself to the belief that people accustomed to the lux- 
uries of wealth could look with special favor upon the 
plainness of her offerings. The best it was possible for 
her to set before her guests would doubtless seem poor 
and beggarly to them. The sisters sympathized to some 
extent with the fears and anxieties of the mother, but 
Aunt Martha sat, during the little storm of prepara- 
tion, the very picture of tranquillity, and had no more 
thought that the evening would not be enjoyable to the 
visitors than that she herself would be found deficient 
in topics for entertaining conversation. 

Why, sister-in-law,’^ she said, looking up serenely 
at Mother Becket, sit down and rest. Do not let the 
coming of these people annoy you, or I shall never for- 
give Thomas for saving their lives. Who are they, 
anyway? Simple mortals who eat, drink, sleep, and 
live like ourselves. If they were in the j’ichest man- 
sion on earth, canvas- back duck could not taste better 
to them than when eaten from your table. Good bread 
is just as good in one place as another. There is no 
woman living who can put better pastry on the board 
than yourself, and as for coffee and tea and fresh cream, 
they are the same the world over. If Mrs. President 
Monroe or the queen of England were here, and should 
not know what good food was because it was, perhaps, 
not so elegantly served as they had known food to be, 
I would set them down as silly fools, whose opinions 
12 


134 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


w^ere not worthy of a moment’s thought. The greatest 
of men have slept in the open air, or lived in tents, 
and dined on the coarsest of food. Should we then 
feel any uneasiness as to the entertainment of these 
guests ?” 

You look at things in such an easy way, Martha,” 
said Mother Becket, smiling, with a little more of con- 
fidence in her thin, wrinkled face; ^^but really I cannot 
help wishing to please these strangers, and fearing, also, 
that I may fail, and that they may go away not favor- 
ably impressed with our poor efforts at hospitality.” 

“ Tut, tut, sister-in-law. They have too much sense 
not to know Avhen they are kindly and generously en- 
tertained. You’ll like them, Mary. They are just like 
other people, — other good-hearted, liberal-minded peo- 
ple. You have so long been shut up alone, and have 
of late come so seldom in contact with the world, that 
you have grown to be afraid of it ; but I remember the 
time, sister, when you could be as gay and happy of an 
evening as any one.” 

We are growing old, Martha, and in this new 
country have become unaccustomed to the little refine- 
ments of social life; but I doubt not it is as you say; 
these are sensible people, and will therefore not expect 
too much of us.” 

Did it ever occur to you, sister-in-law,” continued 
Aunt Martha, that a rose is just as lovely in one place 
as another, that the simplest and commonest things of 
life are always the most precious and desirable? This 
North Carolina family have been for months roughing 
it in the Northwest. Why? Because they had grown 


“7 PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU” 135 

weary of elegant houses and the artificialities of fashion- 
able life. They had a longing, natural to all healthy 
men and women, for pure air, good water, coarse food, 
the rugged landscape, and nature in its wildest and 
simplest development. In short, they sought a change, 
and they found it in the Far West and will find it here, 
— a pleasurable change. Had they desired anything 
more elegant, that is to say, more artificial, they would 
have gone abroad, and sought it among the noted water- 
ing-places of the Old World; but they did not. If 
your house were a cabin, and your table-ware of wood, 
so long as you provided them with the best you had, 
and gave them kindly welcome, it would be enough. 
Sensible people, large people, wise people never ask for 
more, and are more likely to be satisfied with less than 
the ordinary run of mortals.’’ 

Yes, yes; but people are not all wise,” said Mother 
Becket, now grown a little impatient under the restraint 
imposed by this long lecture. 

True,” responded Aunt Martha ; but why should 
you or I trouble ourselves about the likes or dislikes 
of simpletons? We may for once by accident waste a 
dinner or an evening upon them, but that is the extent 
of the damage they have the power to inflict. I recall 

an incident in the life of Peter the Great ” 

At this juncture Mrs. Crandall, Margaret, and the 
sisters entered the little back parlor, to Mother Becket’s 
great relief and lively satisfaction, for she had heard the 
anecdote of Peter at least a hundred times, it being one 
of Aunt Martha’s stock illustrations of the condescen- 
sion of the great, and of the readiness with which they 


136 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECHETS LANE. 


accommodate themselves to the ordinary circumstances 
and concerns of life. 

I am glad you have come, very glad,’’ said Mother 
Becket, rising and taking Mrs. Crandall by the hand. 
^^Why, Margaret,” continued the old lady, adjusting 
her spectacles so as to obtain a better view of the young 
girl, “ you are a lady now, so large and womanly that 
I hardly knew you.” 

I hope I have not grown too large, Mrs. Becket,” 
said Margaret, cheerfully; ‘^so large that I seem over- 
grown and awkward to you.” 

^^No, no,” said Aunt Martha; I can answer for that, 
my child. You will never seem awkward to any one, 
and large women are always very attractive.” 

Especially to little men,” broke in Harriet Becket, 
with a laugh. If there is a particularly large woman 
anywhere, you may be quite sure that all the little men 
in the vicinity are in love with her. Margaret, you 
must look out for these little men, they will be coming 
after you in troops.” 

I apprehend no danger from that source,” replied 
Margaret. ^‘In fact, if your theory is correct, I 
cannot be so very large after all, for I have not 
been troubled by admirers of any kind, either little or 
big.” 

Ah, that is easily accounted for,” said the sister. 

I fear the unsavory reputation of Becket’s Lane has 
deterred them ; the place is certainly not regarded favor- 
ably, — that is to say, elegant young gentlemen would 
hardly look in Becket’s Lane for their ideal.” 

Well, well,” said Margaret, blushing, ^^let elegant 


“J PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU.’’ 137 

young gentlemen look elsewhere; we shall get along 
very well in Becketts Lane without them/’ 

All I have to say on that subject/’ replied Harriet 
Becket, warmly, I have said time and again before. 
If Mr. Crandall, Donald, and brother Tom don’t let 
you leave the horrid place, and come to live with us, I 
shall finally not speak to them at all. I have made up 
my mind on that point fully.” 

What an egotistical young w^oman you are, niece,” 
said Aunt Martha, now taking up the cudgel for Beck- 
et’s Lane. Do you think this the only place, — the 
most suitable place in the world for Margaret ?” 

^^No, Aunt Martha, I do not think anything of the 
kind ; but I do regard it as a better place for Margaret 
than that rendezvous for dissipated, idle, and worthless 
people, — Becket’s Lane. Why, the very name has be- 
come a synonyme of drunkenness and vagabondage.” 

To the self-righteous and hypercritical it may be,” 
said Aunt Martha, going back at her niece with con- 
siderable warmth. There must be those who labor, 
and they are often, as we know, stingily and grudgingly 
paid ; but because they are poorly clad, roughly housed 
and fed, and are compelled by their very poverty to 
gratify their social instincts as they can, and be content 
with such recreations as their limited means afford, we 
should not conclude that they are so much worse, either 
morally or socially, than those who wear fine linen, fare 
sumptuously every day, and go to bed at night drunk 
with the choicest wines. As a rule, in this country the 
sons begin life where the fathers leave off, and end it 
where the fathers began. The people of Becket’s Lane 
12 ^ 


138 BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE, 

were as well born, doubtless, as people elsewhere ; they 
are now in the trough of the sea, their children will be 
on the crest of the wave. The vices and infirmities of 
the poor are exposed by the poverty of their surround- 
ings, while those of the rich are concealed by tlieir 
wealth ; but shall we blindly assume, therefore, that the 
one is alone worthy of our consideration, and at sight of 
the other, like the Pharisee, cry unclean, and pass by on 
the other side 

The sister was for a moment overwhelmed rather by 
the volubility of Aunt Martha than by the pertinency 
of her reply, but she said, finally, — 

‘^You know. Aunt Martha, that Becketts Lane is 
not a fit place for a young girl like Margaret?’^ 

I do not know it, Harriet. I do know, however, 
that if it is a suitable home for Mrs. Crandall, Donald, 
and your brother Tom, it cannot be an unfit place for 
Margaret, for I know of no better people living than 
they are.’^ 

It is very different indeed with them,’^ the sister 
replied. ^^They are no longer young, and may seek 
their society elsewhere if it pleases them to do so.^’ 

So may Margaret.’^ 

But, aunt, a young girl — an unmarried woman — 
is not permitted to seek. She should be so situated in 
life that she can be sotight.’^ 

The knocker sounding now. Mother Becket, Aunt 
Martha, and one of the sisters went to the drawing- 
room to receive their guests. The Landons had come, 
a cheerful, pleasant company, who, by their cordiality 
and perfect ease, relieved Mother Becket of a great 


PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU’ 


139 


load of nervous anxiety. Like all people accustomed 
to society, they had the tact to render others comfort- 
able, and by so doing make themselves happy. 

“Mrs. Becket,^^ the elder Landon said, after the 
customary salutations had been exchanged, “we shall 
always consider . ourselves under obligations to. your 
family, and continue especially mindful of the great 
service rendered to us by your son. I trust we shall 
meet him here to-night.” 

“He will be here, I think,” she answered, timidly. 
“ I regret that you were so unfortunate, but am very 
thankful, proud, indeed, that Thomas was able to be 
of help to you.” 

“ Mrs. Becket,” said Mrs. Charles Landon, coming 
up and taking a seat by the old lady’s side, “your 
son will be here to-night ? I must see him again. I 
must have an opportunity to thank him for his heroic 
and successful struggles in our behalf.” 

“ I look for him, but — but I do not think he would 
like to be thanked. I fear if he knew you were await- 
ing him for that purpose, he would not venture to 
come.” 

“ I am glad, then, he does not know; but he shall not 
escape unthanked, for I would rather have him remem- 
ber me as one who annoyed him a little, very much, 
indeed, than to run the risk of having him think I 
could not recognize a favor and appreciate it.” 

Aunt Martha chatted with the elder Mrs. Landon, 
and the sister got on pleasantly with Mr. Landon, 
junior ; in fact, the proverbial ice was so earlyand easily 
broken that it offered no perceptible obstruction to the 


140 the belle O’ BECKETTS LANE. 

interchange and flow of agreeable conversation. It 
was not long before Thomas Becket arrived ; but being 
familiar wdth the house, he proceeded directly to the 
little parlor in the rear, and finding Mrs. Crandall, 
Margaret, and his elder sister there, tarried with them 
for a little while. He evidently anticipated meeting 
more than the members of his own family, for he was 
dressed with far more care than he was accustomed to 
exercise. There had been a remarkable change in Mr. 
Becket within the last year, and it was decidedly for 
the better ; his form was always erect and manly, but 
his face had now assumed a healthful color, and that 
expression, also, which comes of good impulse and 
pleasant thought. 

Come, Margaret,’’ he said, finally, let us go in 
and pay our respects to mother’s guests.” 

^‘No, no; excuse me, Mr. Becket,” she answered, 
with a blushing hesitancy, not indicative, however, of 
timidity. I did not think of meeting strangers when 
I came.” 

Had you thought of it for a month, you could not 
have come better prepared than you are. We shall get 
a glimpse of the outside world. We may find those 
indeed who are more richly attired than you, but there 
will be no brighter ” 

Stop, Mr. Becket,” said Margaret, laughing ; “ I 
will refuse absolutely if you flatter me. I shall come 
to think I am actually too good for their society.” 

You might not be altogether wrong in that thought,” 
said Becket, with a touch of humor in his voice. “ But 
come, let us go and see.” 


“7 PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU, 


141 


Well/^ said the girl, rising and taking his arm. I 
am very much afraid to go.’^ 

You do not look so in the least; in fact, you are the 
very pic£ure of confidence and courage.’^ 

Hold a moment,” said Mrs. Crandall, prompted by 
motherly pride ; let me touch that rosebud in your 
hair ; it is a little out of place.” 

Thank you, mother; we should go thoroughly pre- 
pared for victory.” 

“ There can be no lovelier rose than this, anyway,” 
said Mrs. Crandall, as she readjusted it. 

And no lovelier head to put it on,” said Becket, 
quietly, as they moved away. 

While the conversation in the drawing-room was 
flowing in cheerful currents, now shifting from east to 
west, and then from north to south, with an occasional 
overflow on the part of Aunt Martha to remoter por- 
tions of the world, Becket and Margaret entered. 
There was a flush on the girks cheek which rendered 
her more beautiful, if possible, than ever before. There 
was a graceful ease in all her movements, also, which 
contributed immeasurably to the charm of her presence. 

Mr. Becket, I am glad to meet you,” said the elder 
Landon, stepping forward with outstretched hand. “I 

will not tell you now how grateful I am for ” 

Nothing,” said Becket. So let us say no more 
about it. Senator.” 

Well, as you wish,” said’ Landon. You know 
my family, Mr. Becket; permit me to introduce Miss 
Margaret to them. I have had the pleasure of meeting 
her before.” 


142 the belle 0 ’ BECKEHS LANE. 

Indeed exclaimed Becket. 

“ I met the senator yesterday/^ said Margaret, as she 
took Jus arm. 

^^Wife, this is Miss Margaret Huntly; my son, 
Charles Landon, Margaret; and this,’^ he continued, 
stopping before Mrs. Landon, junior, ‘^1 want all to 
hear me now, for I propose to surprise you with a 
secret.” Pausing a moment, until the little company 
had gathered round in pleasant expectation, he said. 
This, Margaret, is your cousin, Mrs. Charles Landon.” 

^‘Can it be so?” said Mrs. Landon, junior, in great 
surprise. Then, after kissing Margaret, she continued, 
I would be glad to know that you are in earnest. 
Father Landon, but I fear you are only jesting.” 

Not at all,” said Mr. Landon. “ She is the daugh- 
ter of your father’s sister, whose maiden name was the 
same as yours, — Caroline Iredell. I knew Margaret’s 
mother well. We met first at Chapel Hill, a college- 
town in North Carolina. Having: heard of Marg:a- 
ret, I visited her home yesterday, and received from 
her hand certain letters which I had written to her 
mother.” 

And you never told ns ?” 

I never knew absolutely until yesterday, and I have 
been holding the discovery since then as a pleasant sur- 
prise, for I had determined you should meet her before 
our departure, although I did not anticipate the meeting 
here to-night.” 

While Aunt Martha was in ecstasies over this agree- 
able denouement in Margaret’s personal history, and 
Mother Becket rejoiced to know that the lovely girl 


“7 PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU” 143 

had found relatives so likely to prove helpful to her in 
life, and the Becket sisters were happy over ^vhat they 
esteemed a fortunate discovery for their friend, Mr. 
Thomas Becket, strange to say, lost all his cheeriness, 
and felt as if his heart had turned to lead, and was 
gradually sinking to his boots. He saw, as he thought, 
that this girl, who had fallen like a gleam of sunshine 
over his life and stimulated into healthful growth what- 
ever was good and manly there, was now quite certain 
to be lost to him forever. The old life was miserable 
enough at any time, and he had now for a compara- 
tively long period looked back upon it with a feeling 
of loathing and deep humiliation ; but the future with- 
out the girFs cheerful presence would, he thought, be 
darker still, so dark, indeed, that he must necessarily 
stumble and fall never to rise again. The good Dr. 
McCray had been right when he said that nothing but 
a controlling desire, supplemented by an absorbing 
hope, could save him. The great passion and the 
pleasant expectation had come to arrest him in his 
heedless career to ruin. Now the passion might re- 
main, but the hope bade fair to be annihilated, and 
without this would he not relapse into the old condi- 
tion, nay, one tenfold worse? for now he would be 
grievously disappointed in life, and therefore corre- 
spondingly desperate. Before it was indifference, ap- 
parently, to all the future promised ; but now it would 
be a distaste, nay, an utter abhorrence, of all that it 
could give. 

When dinner was announced he escorted Mrs. Charles 
Landon to the dining-room, while her husband per- 


144 BELLE O' B EGRET'S LANE. 

formed a similar service for Margaret ; but Becket was 
like one in a somnambulistic sleep. The things present 
he did not see, or hear, or feel ; his only thought was 
of the miserable past, and of the dreadful years which 
lay stretched out before him. Mrs. Landon, discovering 
that he was abstracted and reticent, undertook to cheer 
him up, and succeeded in so far as to recall him to a 
consciousness of his obligation to treat his mother’s 
guests with gentle courtesy. Throwing off the load 
which oppressed him, or, perhaps, more truthfully 
speaking, rallying under it with all his strength, he 
managed to go tlirough the task before him without 
offending any of the proprieties of social intercourse ; 
but the sunshine around him was excluded from the 
recesses of his heart. When the repast was ended and 
they rose from the table, he felt that relief which the 
sick experience from any change of position. 

Soon after their return to the drawing-room, Mr. 
Landon took him to one side, and in suave tones, 
which pierced Becket like needles of ice, told him 
confidentially of Margaret’s undoubted right to one 
of the fairest estates in North Carolina, and how, al- 
though it would strip his son, or rather his son’s wife, 
of half her inheritance, she should be put in possession 
of it as soon as possible; that it was a ju^t thing to do, 
and one which the courts, when they obtained a knowl- 
edge of the facts, would insist upon in spite of any op- 
position that could be offered. 

Well, well,” said Becket, impatiently, I should 
perhaps rejoice at the girl’s good fortune, but I tell 
you frankly that I cannot. Her going will be a loss 


“/ PROPOSE TO SURPRISE YOU.” 145 

to US ; how great a loss, neither she nor you will ever 
realize.” 

Keally, Mr. Becket, I did not think you would re- 
gard it so seriously.” 

‘‘I know I should not,” replied Becket, moodily. 

It is doubtless well for Margaret. I know, of course, 
that it is best for her.” 

^‘1 am pleased to hear you say so. I know the 
Crandalls are disinclined to let her go, and Margaret 
herself is reluctant to be separated from them. I am 
glad to know I shall have your hearty co-operation in 
restoring the girl to her true position.” 

“ Her present home is certainly not the most desir- 
able,” said Becket, with a little tinge of anger in his 
voice. 

No, no, my friend. I do not mean that exactly. 
She has been very fortunate. I know the unswerving 
integrity of Donald Crandall. I realize in full the 
value of his good wife’s influence in moulding her 
character; but I ask you, Mr. Becket, if it would not 
be better for Margaret to assume that station in life for 
which her wealth, beauty, and mind so well qualify 
her. It may not be a nobler or better life, strictly 
speaking, than the one she now lives; but will it not 
be one in which she will be happier and more useful ?” 

^^No doubt, no doubt,” said Becket, gloomily. ^^I 
will consider the matter. Senator Landon, and do what 
I think my duty under the circumstances; and now 
let me bid you good-evening, for I regret to say I am 
compelled to go.” • 

As Becket turned abruptly to take leave of his mother 

Q k 13 


146 BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 

and her guests, Mr. Landon laid his hand upon his 
arm to detain him a moment longer. 

“ I am afraid,’^ lie said, that my communication 
has not been a pleasant one to you — something tells me 
that.^^ 

‘^Do not think so. Why should I not rejoice at 
Margaret’s good fortune ?” 

I do not know ; I thought you would, but fear you 
do not.” 

Senator Landon,” said Becket, revealing now that 
intensity of feeling which he had hitherto with dilli- 
culty repressed, to be frank with you, I do not. The 
girl has saved me. She is the one object I have looked 
upon as worth living for. AVhen you take her away 
you render life a burden to me. How, then, in the 
name of God, can I rejoice ?” 

I had no thought of that, but ” 

Let us not argue the matter,” continued Becket, 
fiercely. I have no right to stand in her way, and, 
if I had, do not suppose I would be so contemptibly, 
selfishly mean as to take advantage of her present posi- 
tion to assert it ; but must I go so far as to co-operate 
with you in a scheme which ruins me ?” 

Let us hope, my friend, that it will not be so bad 
as that; I am quite confident it cannot be.” 

Whether it be or not, I promise that no word or 
act of mine shall deter Margaret; but I must have 
time to think before I promise more. Good-night.” 

The man is in love with the girl’,” Mr. Landon 
said to himself, aS Becket took his leave. They are 
all in love with her; but that is not surprising; the 


“J PROPOSE TO SURPRISE FOU.” 147 

marvel is that she should be so attached to them, and 
so contented/^ 

Mr. Landon, although a just man as tlie world goes^ 
and an honorable man according to the generally ac- 
cepted standard, was nevertheless not a wholly benev- 
olent and unselfish philanthropist, who does right 
because it is right, and seeks no other compensation 
than the approval of his own conscience. Underlying 
his thoughts and acts to-night, and heretofore so far as 
they had reference to Margaret Huntly, was the fact 
that he liad another son who still travelled the solitary 
path of single blessedness. So soon as his eyes rested 
upon Margaret he saw, what he had hoped of late to 
find, that she would make a suitable companion for him 
through life. He knew also that her recognition by 
the courts of North Carolina as the daughter of Car- 
oline Iredell, and the heir to one-half of her grand- 
father’s estate, while it would strip his married son, 
Mr. Charles Landon, of half of his estate, would at 
the same time take from two others also one-half of 
theirs, and make Margaret the richest catch in North 
Carolina. Mr. Charles Landon would still be left in 
independent circumstances, and his brother, if the 
scheme now contemplated by the father resulted suc- 
cessfully, would get a treble portion, and the Landon 
family on the whole be greatly benefited in respect of 
wealth and influence. 

He could with propriety take the young girl into his 
own house as the guest of her cousin, Mrs. Charles 
Landon, and with the opportunities thus afforded to his 
unmarried son, it would be strange indeed if Margaret, 


148 the belle 0 ’ BECHET’S LANE. 

habituated as she had been to poverty, did not grow 
fond of her luxurious surroundings, and of her more 
cultured friends, and especially of the handsome Mr. 
Kichard Landon, junior. 

It was agreeable, however, to Mr. Landon, senior, to 
flatter himself that he simply desired to reinstate his 
old sweetheart’s child in her true position, and that to 
do this act of justice the Landon family must suffer 
loss. In this way he would administer to a sordid 
world a brilliant lesson in unselfishness that would per- 
haps redound greatly to his own honor, and probably 
— but this was a consideration he would never publicly 
recognize — to his own profit also. Mr. Land on’s old 
love, indeed, had been supplanted by another and a 
happy, if not a happier one, so that he had long since 
ceased to look back with regret upon the past. If a 
spark still lingered in his breast of the older flame, it 
was entirely too dull to operate as an incentive to action. 
In addition to the senator’s desire to bring into his 
family the wealth belonging of right to Margaret 
Huntly by means of her marriage to his son, was the. 
prompting fear that if he did not exert himself in her 
behalf, and do it speedily, some one else would ascertain 
her rights, and make use of the discovery for personal 
ends. In that event Mr. Charles Landon would still 
suffer loss, and the Landon family not be in position to 
gather profit. It often happens in real life that sordid 
motives are sugar-coated with unselfishness. Submittino* 
this last sage reflection to the attention of the reader, we 
shall leave the pleasant company to spend an hour or 
two more at Mother Becket’s, and then to separate and 


“ WE SHALL KEEP HER PUREP 


149 


think over the incidents of the evening, and finally, 
perhaps, conclude that it was one in which they were 
agreeably entertained. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

“Thae gude God ha’ gien her ta us, an’ wi’ prayers an’ 
watchin’ an’ His help we shall keep her pure.” 

A RIVER heading in one of the interior counties of 
the State, and flowing northward for fully two-thirds 
of its entire length, finally turns sharply to the east, 
and subsequently, as if uncertain as to its course, shifts 
and t^Yists in every conceivable direction until at last 
it empties its sluggish current into Kundassy Bay, some 
ten miles or more to the west of Rockboroh At the 
^ river’s mouth the water spreads out over a vast area of 
level country, forming what is known as the big marsh, 
a low, boggy, weedy, watery section, which has from 
time immemorial been the favorite resort of musk-rat, 
brant, and wild duck. Within the boundaries of this 
waste are many isolated pools of clear, deep water, sur- 
rounded in summer by rank vegetation, where good 
fish abound, so that when the hunter has grown weary 
of pushing his little boat through the tall grass and 
pond-lilies in pursuit of water-fowl he may obtain 
rest for his body, and at the same time occupation for 


150 BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

liis mind, by dropping a line quietly for bass or 
pickerel. 

It was for this hunting-ground that Becket started 
in the early morning following the little gathering at 
his mother’s house. He had no desire to encounter the 
Landons again, nor had he fully determined in his 
own mind what advice he would give to Margaret in 
case he were consulted on the subject of her removal. 
He thought it best, therefore, to absent himself from 
the farm for a time, and allow the Crandalls, the Lan- 
dons, and the girl to settle the question as they should 
deem proper. He did not doubt that Margaret on 
second thought would be so charmed by the novelty of 
the proposed change, and the fascinations of the new 
life, that she would readily consent to abandon her 
humble home for one so immeasurably more attractive ; 
but if by possibility she should hesitate to be separated 
from the Scotchman and his wife, he felt quite certain 
the Landons would prevail on them to go with her by 
offering such inducements as would by contrast make 
their present situation seem intolerably poor. Acting, 
upon this conviction, therefore, he left a note saying 
that if Margaret concluded to leave with her friends, 
Mrs. Crandall should request his sisters to supply her 
with a suitable outfit, and provide her also with the 
means necessary for the journey, and if Donald and his 
wife thought best to accompany her now, or follow her 
at some other time, he would interpose no objection. 
In saying this much, however, he did not wish to be 
understood as advising either Margaret or them as to 
what course they should take, but he hoped they would 


“ fFJE SHALL KEEP HER PUREP J51 

follow their own judgments, which he did not at all 
doubt would lead them rightly. 

When Margaret had read the letter she looked with 
a puzzled expression to Donald, and said, despond- 
ently, — 

“ Is Mr. Becket indifferent as to whether we go or 
not 

‘^Na, na, my chiel; thae letter contains neither a 
wush that ye should remain, nor an inteemation that 
he thocht it weel for ye ta gang ; ye are to use ye’r ain 
glide judgment, an’ he wull be content.” 

do not want to go,” the girl said, emphatically; 
and then, as if a doubt oppressed her, and witli fading 
color, she continued, ^^but if I thought Mr. Becket 
desired me to go, I would leave at once.” 

He expresses na sic desire, lass. He hae dootless 
lef ta gie us aur ain free wull, unembarrassed by his 
suggeestions, an’ if ye dinna wush ta gang ye shall 
nae.” 

I do not,” said Margaret, firmly. 

“But, my child,” interposed Mrs. Crandall, “you 
should not decide upon the impulse of the moment. 
The advantages of the new life would be very great. 
Do nothing in haste that you will repent at leisure.” 

“Mistress Crandall,” said Donald, “do you desire 
thae lass ta gang wi’ these people ?” 

“It is an important question, Mr. Crandall, and 
should not be decided too quickly. It is a matter that 
would affect Margaret for life.” 

“It is indeed. Mistress Crandall, an’ for that verra 
reason she should na gang. If she were ailin’, a change 


152 the belle O ’ beckets lane. 

micht do her glide. If she were discontented, thae ex- 
perement micht be worth thae tryin’ ; but thae lass is 
weel, an’ satisfied wi’ her present lot, an’ it wad be an 
ungratefu’ reflection upo’ Divine Providence, under 
sic circumstances, ta contemplate a change. Still, lik’ 
Mr. Becket, I wadna seek ta influence her decision. 
Do as ye’r ain heart prompts ye, my lass ; an’ in de- 
ciding for yersel’ ye shall decide for us also, for ye are 
our bairn, an’ we shall bide wi’ ye till thae end. I 
promist that before God, an wull stan’ by it.” 

I will not go.” 

Dinna say that for fear o’ grievin’ us. It matters 
little where we spen’ thae balance o’ our days, for thae 
time is nae ower lang, an’ thae South, I’m told, is a 
pleasant country. Speak, then, as ye’r ain heart prompts 
ye, my bairn ; an’ if ye hae doots tak’ mair time for 
reflection, an’ leave it a’ undecided for noo.” 

‘^JSTo, no. Father Crandall. I need no more time. 
I shall not go. I am contented here, and cannot be 
more than that even there.” 

^^You feel absolutely sure of your owm mind?” 
asked Mrs. Crandall, anxiously. 

I do ; let us drop the subject, mother, and forget it. 
I think it has already thrown over us a little cloud.” 

The elder Landon talked the matter over very freely 
with his wife, and when all the advantages to the family 
were made plain to her, she did not hesitate to approve 
the elForts of her husband, and agree to do all in her 
power to persuade Margaret to accompany them on their 
homeward trip. They lingered in Bockboro’ for a full 
week upon one pretext and another, but really for 'the 


» WE SHALL KEEP HER PURE.’' 153 

purpose of securing the girFs consent to go with them. 
In the Becket sisters they found enthusiastic allies. 
These young ladies entertained a sincere regard for 
Margaret, and had many times endeavored to obtain 
Mrs. CrandalFs consent to her coming to the village to 
remain permanently with them. They were not by 
any means unfamiliar with the reputation of BeckeFs 
Lane, and the idea that a young and handsome girl 
should abide there was too monstrous, they thought, 
to be entertained. But the girl had grown into the 
hearts of Donald and his wife, and they could not con- 
sent to be separated from her. This worthy couple 
often thought of the hour when they stood by the bed- 
side of the dying mother and of the pledge then given, 
and any proposition which might however remotely 
suggest a violation of that sacred promise would not 
be considered by them for an instant. 

The lass is ours,^^ old Donald had said, proudly, to 
Harriet Becket. ^^An’ shall we nae keep our ain? 
Thae gude God ha’ gien her ta us. An’ wi’ prayers 
an’ watchin’ an’ His help we shall keep her pure.” 

On the day previous to that fixed upon for their de- 
parture the Landon family drove out to Becket’s Lane, 
and while Margaret and her cousin, accompanied by 
Mr. Charles Landon, were gone upon a delightful ram- 
ble over the farm, the senator pictured to Donald and 
his wife in glowing colors the advantages which they 
and their adopted daughter would derive from the 
change proposed. 

^^The lass has made her decision. We left it a’ wi’ 
her.” 


154 'I'HE belle O' BECKET'S LANE. 

‘^But what does Mr. Becket think asked Mr. 
Landon. 

I caniia tell ; he is away an’ has been ; but he left a 
wee note, sayin’ ta her an’ us, ‘ do as ye think weell ; ye 
ha’ my consent ta go or stay as suits ye best.’ That 
was thae substance o’ it.” 

And Margaret thinks it best to remain ?” 

She does.” 

And you, Mr. Crandall ?” 

I hae na doot thae lass’s deecision is a wise ane.” 

And why ?” Mr. Landon asked, sharply. 

Tis a’ ways best ta let weel enough alone.” 

^^Do you call this.tVell enough?” retorted Mr. Lan- 
don, angrily, as he looked about him contemptuously 
upon the bare walls and rough furniture. 

do,” answered Donald, hotly. ^^Ye hae richer 
surroundings, maybe, but nae mair o’ comfort. Thae 
air o’ ye’r hame is nae mair healthy ; ye dinna sleep i’ 
ye’r costly beds mair contentedly ; ye dinna eat wi’ ye’r 
siller spoons aff o’ ye’r mahoginy tables wi’ better ap- 
petites, or wi’ mair o’ relish ; ye dinna drink fra ye’r 
elegant goblets sweeter milk, or purer water ; ye ha’ 
servants ta wait upo’ ye, we dinna need them, an’ are 
therefore exempt frae that annoyance ; ye ha’ carriages 
i’ whilk ta ride, we hae na use for them, for we fin’ 
health an’ pleasure i’ walkin’ ; ye hae gilt-edged buiks, 
wi’ han’some covers, but we glean thae , same instruc- 
tion frae those cheaply boun’ ; ye hae fine lawns ta luk 
upo’, but where i’ thae hail South wull ye fin’ a bonnier 
lan’scape ta delight thae een than that afore ye now ? 
ye hae accumulated wealth, maybe, but dinna ye ken 


‘ WE SHALL KEEP HER PUREP 155 

wP a’ yeV wisdom that thae burthen o’ wealth is aye 
counterbalanced by a load o’ care; thae twa are in- 
seeperable, an’ when ye pile up goud an’ siller, ye ony 
heap up anxiety an’ trouble. If ye think, Senator 
Landon, that true happiness depen’s on wealth or dress 
or luxurious leevin’, or onything external, ye hae yet 
ta learn thae maist important lesson o’ life. A clear 
min’, conteented spirit, an’ healthy body, a’ ta’ soom 
extent dependent upo’ frugality, industry, an’ self-denial, 
mak true happiness, — that whilk the riches o’ Dives 
couldna purchase i’ this world, or obtain i’ thae ither.” 

There is much good sense, Mr. Crandall,” began 
Landon, in a conciliatory tone, in what you say ; but 
do you think it right to keep this young girl here in 
poverty when she may find a more comfortable home? 
to keep her in the rude company by which she is sur- 
rounded when she could find associates of education 
and refinement? Are you doing justice to the girl by 
withholding her from all the advantages which wealth 
can give? and are you doing justice to others when 
you deny to her the opportunity to control means which, 
if discreetly used, would accomplish so much good in 
the world ?” 

Ye ask if I wad keep her here. ''*1 didna fetch her 
here, Mr. Landon ; a puir woman, fleeing fra thae heart- 
lessness o’ thae educated, thae refined, thae wealthy, fra 
t!iae verra class ta whilk ye wad tak’ thae girl, brought 
her here. That woman was reared i^ luxury, an’ yet 
was thae maist miserable o’ her sex. She brought thae 
young lass here, an’ wi’ her deeing breath gie her ta us. 
Thae bairn hae foun’ shelter an’ comfort i’ this lowly 


156 the belle 0 ’ BECHETS LANE. 

cabin, sir. She is our bairn, an’ I tell ye, mon, if she 
aye leaves it maun be by her ain free wull, an’ nae by 
influence o’ ours. Had her puir mither twanty years 
sin’ stood midway atween this hame an’ that, fully cog- 
nizant o’ thae advantages o’ baith, can ye doot that she 
wad ha’ chosen this ? An’ do ye expect me wi’ thae 
een o’ a prophet ta luk forrard thragh a’ thae years o’ 
a young girl’s life, an’ say ’tis better for her ta gang 
back till that condition fra whilk her mither fled i’ 
terror ? JSTa, na, I canna do that.” 

But you will be with her, Mr. Crandall,” inter- 
posed Mrs. Landon, who saw that her husband was 
making no progress. 

If thae lass concludes ta go, we shall gang wi’ her. 
She kens that verra weel. Mistress Landon.” 

It will, I am quite sure, be better for you as well 
as for her.” 

Maybe, maybe ; God kens, I dinna. If thae lass 
was discon teented here, I wad bid her go. If she had 
a longin’ for a change whilk mos’ young people feel, I 
wad wush ta gratify her.” 

You think, then, she cannot be induced to go with 
us ?” persisted Mrs. Landon, in persuasive tones. 

^^She says she winna, an’ I ha’ na reason ta doot 
her earnestness i’ thae matter.” 

The young people now entered the room. They had 
had a delightful ramble over grassy fields, and then 
through labyrinths of hazel, the winding paths of 
which Margaret knew perfectly, and then under great 
forest-trees, whose foliage was now tinted with richest 
of autumn colors. As they emptied upon the table the 


WE SHALL KEEP HER PURE. 


157 


leaves, flowers, and nuts gathered in their walk, Mr. 
Land on said, — 

“ Well, Margaret, have you made up your mind to 
go with us?’^ 

Not now ; I will think about it if you wish me to. 
My cousin has promised to write to me, and maybe 
after a while Ifll come to you, if father and mother 
conclude it is best, but not now. I thank you all the 
same, however, for your kindness to me ; but, really, I 
have been here too long to leave so suddenly ; you will, 
I trust, give me time to think it over.’^ 

I regret your decision, but we shall not give you 
up,” said Mr. Landon, senior. I shall look out for a 
pleasant home for Mr. and Mrs. Crandall in the South, 
and we shall expect you all in good time.” 

This was the last effort. They intended to leave 
Kockboro’ early the next morning, but the steamer did 
not arrive on time, and it was late in the afternoon 
when they resumed their homeward journey. Marga- 
ret, Mrs. Crandall, and the Becket sisters spent the day 
with them at the hotel, accompanied them to the vessel, 
and finally, as the bell was ringing the signal of depart- 
ure, bade them a hasty farewell, and, standing on the 
wharf, watched the receding steamer until it disappeared 
beyond JSTarrowpoint light. 

The high official position of the elder Landon, the 
wealth and culture of the family, and their generous 
recognition of the girl of Becketts Lane as a relative, 
were so freely discussed by the good people of Eock- 
boro’ that Margaret became well known even to those 
who had never heard of her before; and the village 
14 


158 


THE BELLE 0’ BECKET’S L'ANE. 


gossips wove about her — of the few facts they knew, and 
of the many things they imagined — a story so full of 
mystery and romance that it was long before the popu- 
lar ear grew weary of it. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

“ If you bid me do it, I will travel barefoot to North Carolina, 
and then — and then come back again to find my heart where I 
leave it.” 

Becket desired to do his duty, — that is to say, he 
Avanted to be perfectly fair and manly in his treatment 
of Margaret. He had, perhaps, never hitherto formu- 
lated in his own mind what his wishes Avere respecting 
her. He had simply rested happily in the sunshine of 
the girFs presence, hoping, if his satisfaction Avith the 
present permitted him to think at all of the future, that 
the association might continue indefinitely ; but noAV 
that he had been suddenly aAvakened as if from a de- 
lightful dream, he Avas compelled to give the matter 
immediate and serious thought. He recognized, of 
course, the disparity in their ages, but this he knew 
Avould not be regarded as an insuperable barrier to 
their union, the difference being, in fact, but a little 
more than fifteen years. A sense of his own uiiAVor- 
thiness suggested the greatest obstacle. His life had 
been one of dissipation and idleness. The past stood 


“/F YOU BID ME DO IT. 


159 


up as a relentless witness to his worthlessness. Could 
he trust himself in so sacred a relation as that which 
could alone prevent a separation from the girl, and if 
he were indeed willing to assume the responsibility of 
such an act, would she be justifiable in doing so ? He 
could not doubt that one so attractive would in time 
have an abundance of suitors, but he felt himself ut- 
terly disqualified to enter the lists against these younger 
and more vivacious gentlemen, and yet he could not in 
honor accept, even if it were offered to him, what he 
dared not enter into competition for. It was of the 
utmost importance to himself, as well as to her, that 
she should know her own heart fully before entering 
into any engagement for life; and how could she know 
it until it had been tested, — until, in short, she had been 
placed in a situation where she might form the ac- 
quaintance of others, and have the freedom to choose? 
To take advantage of her isolated position, the inex- 
perience of youth, and possibly of a sentiment of grati- 
tude which she might entertain for one who had be- 
friended her, would, he argued, not only be unmanly, 
but cowardly, and might lead to long, weary years of 
hopeless discontent and misery. He began to feel, 
therefore, that his love for the girl bound him to 
forget himself utterly in considering the question of 
her removal. At first the thought of separation had 
been so intolerable that he could not entertain it with- 
out a rebellious, angry clashing of his personal desires, 
with what he even then conceived to be his duty. But 
days of quiet conference with his own spirit in the soli- 
tudes of the marsh-fields had enabled him to consider 


160 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


the subject more philosophically, and he had come to 
hope that the affair had been determined in his absence 
by the girFs departure with her North Carolina friends. 
If it had not been so decided already, he felt that it must 
eventually end in that way ; he had, therefore, no desire 
to encounter her again, and undergo the painful experi- 
ence of a personal leave-taking. It was better, now 
that he had become to some extent reconciled to a sep- 
aration, that it should be a thing of the past, rather 
than a distressing incident of the future. 

In returning home he had shortened the distance some 
miles by leaving Rockboro’ to the left and taking nearly 
an air-line through the forest. He therefore entered 
the lane on the west, and as he drew near to the Cran- 
dall house could not, of course, help feeling that intense 
anxiety which all experience when approaching what 
they regard as a crisis in their personal affairs. The 
smoke was curling from Donald’s chimney, and he 
knew from this that Donald and his wife were still 
there. It was a bright October day, and as he drew 
nearer he discovered Margaret standing in the open 
doorway with her face turned toward him. When he 
came to her he placed his gun against the fence, and, 
leaning over the paling, said, interrogatively, — 

“ You did not go?” 

But it seems you did,” the girl replied, rather sadly, 
and yet with an effort to be cheerful. She went to the 
gate, and, while shaking hands with him, continued, — 
“ You have been gone — let me think ; oh, I know 
without thinking: you have been absent just eight 
davs.” 


“7F YOU BID ME DO IT.’* 101 

Are the Landons here 

^^They left two days ago; but why did you leave? 
We were surprised to get your note; in fact, I do not 
even now know whether you wanted me to go or stay/^ 
Becket thought he detected a tremor in her voice in- 
dicative of feeling on the subject of his absence, and 
not trusting himself to answer her question just then, 
he said, — 

Come, walk with me a little way toward home/’ 
As they went slowly down the lane, he continued, — 
I thought you would go with them, Margaret ; and, 
to be frank with you, I was unreasonable enough to 
think they had impertinently intruded themselves into 
our little circle, and sought to break it up. I felt if I 
remained that I would^ say or do what I should after- 
wards regret.” 

The girl thought a moment, and then, with a touch 
of reproach in her voice, answered, — 

You might at least have supported me in my reso- 
lution not to go.” 

My selfishness would have prompted me to do that ; 
it was to escape from myself that I ran away. I felt 
that if present I could not part with you ; and yet, even 
in my vexation at the thought of your going, I could 
not avoid the conviction that what was most painful to 
me was infinitely the best for you. A week of reflec- 
tion has made me stronger, and enabled me to see my 
duty more clearly. I have no right, Margaret, to stand 
between you and a better life ; to deter you, by even a 
word, from the brilliant future which is inviting you.” 
You wish, then, that I had gone ?” she said, look- 
I 14 * 


162 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


ing into bis face with eyes in which the tears were 
gathering. 

I think it would have been far better for you ; I 
think it is your duty to go” he replied, solemnly. 

Oh, Mr. Becket she sobbed. I did not think 
you would have advised that, — really I did not. If I 
had, I should have gone.’^ 

They had stopped in the shadow of a great walnut- 
tree, which stood not far from the Becket stables. 
Near it, and within the spread of its branches, was 
one of those gigantic relics of the glacial period, — a 
bowlder, whose surface had been worn quite smooth 
by the old wash of the waves ages ago. It was a 
favorite loitering-place for those frequenters of the 
lane whose business was not urgent, and here Becket 
and Margaret seated themselves on this delightful 
afternoon. 

Margaret,^’ replied Becket, you should not think 
of me. You must not sacrifice yourself to any un- 
founded sentiment of gratitude. It is not because I 
do not care for you that I advise this separation. It is 
because I do ; because I realize that there is a better 
life for you elsewhere, — a happier and more useful 
one.’’ 

But is not life here as good for me as it is for you, 
Mr. Becket?’^ she replied, angrily. ‘‘I have been 
happy here ; how do you know I should be happy else- 
where ? And what right have I to look forward to a 
life from which my friends are to be excluded ? You 
would send me among strangers whom I do not know, 
and for whom I do not care.’^ 


“7F YOU BID ME DO 163 

I would not do that without good reason, and be- 
fore I give the reason let me say a word for myself. I 
ask no answer to it ; indeed, I should be sorry now to 
have an answer, for it might trammel you in the future. 
What I desire to say is that I love you better than my 
own life, and it is my exceeding love which impels me 
to advise you to seek the better life that lies before you. 
You have been secluded here, lost as it were to the 
world, and so shut out from its advantages. You know 
not your own heart, you cannot know what change 
even a year may make in your feelings. What may 
seem to be very good, the best within the narrow 
limit of your present vision, may a year hence, witli 
your broader experience, be distasteful, — nay, obnoxious 
to you. An obligation now assumed might then be- 
come an insufferable burden. Go, then, and — and if 
two years hence you should feel a desire to return, we 
shall receive you back with rejoicing hearts. I do not 
look for your return; it is too much to hope for; but if 
by possibility you should ’’ 

“You think I do not know my own heart,’^ broke 
in the girl, impatiently. “I do; you think a little 
tinsel and parade will turn my head ; it will not. You 
think I do not know enough to distinguish between 
solid merit and the hollowness of rank and fashion; 
it is a poor compliment you pay my judgment, Mr. 
Becket.’^ 

“No, no; I do not doubt that your judgment will, 
when all the facts are presented, lead you rightly. I 
have never for one moment doubted that; but solid 
convictions are the product of accurate information. 


164 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


You should at least try yourself in the new life. I am 
told you are rich. You should know exactly what 
effect your new surroundings may have upon your mind 
and heart.^^ 

My riches, if they exist at all, will be a greater 
curse than the direst poverty if they separate me from 
my friends.^^ 

It will not take you long to become familiar with 
the new life. If it suit you, well. If not, you are still 
at liberty to come back to us ; and whatever the result 
of the trial may be you will be blameless. Keep free, 
therefore, to make such choice as may seem wise to you 
under the new light.’^ 

Mr. Becket,^^ the girl began, resolutely, as if she 
had at last hit upon a plan of escape, which, in the 
execution, required the courage of desperation, ‘‘you 
said 

“ That it was better for you to go.” 

“No, no ; not that,” she replied, turning her flushed 
face from him. “ It was a better word than that.” 

“ That I love you with all my heart, and shall do so 
alwa3^s.” 

“That is it; it sounds better to my ear than the 
other. It is the word I hoped would sometime come. 
I shall not leave you. You cannot drive me from 
you.” 

“ No, no, Margaret, you should not talk in that way. 
A year or two hence tell me that, if it be possible for 
you to do so, but not now. It would not be fair for 
me to take you now. In justice to me you should not 
wish it, for I should through life have fears that I had 


YOU BID ME DO IT.'^ 


165 


wronged you in taking you up so soon, when my judg- 
ment told me that you should have first had an oppor- 
tunity to look about you, and so to ascertain by actual 
test the strength of your affection/^ 

Do you doubt it or me ?’’ she asked, looking up 
with a face radiant though tearful. 

No, no ; I see unbounded confidence and honesty 
in your eyes. I doubt myself ; I doubt if I am worthy 
of you. It is as much to test your knowledge of me 
that I bid you go as to try yourself. If two years 
hence you can look back to me and my poor surround- 
ings, and say, ^ I would be contented there,^ then — then, 

my darling Oh, Margaret!” he cried, breaking 

down utterly, if you knew how hard the trial is to 
me, and yet how necessary it seems, you would, I think, 
not hesitate to go.” 

Mr. Becket !” exclaimed the girl, springing to her 
feet and trembling with intensity of feeling, “ say no 
more. If — if you bid me do it, I will travel barefoot 
to North Carolina, and then — and then come back again 
to find my heart where I leave it.” 

‘^Margaret ” but he could not speak further; 

rising, he shook hands with her, and so they separated. 


166 


THE BELLE 0’ BECHETS LANE. 


CHAPTEE XX. 

^^CALL ME MARK.” 

There was no longer any question as to Margaret’s 
acceptance of the invitation of the Landons. If again 
invited, she would go. She could not, she thought, 
very well notify them that she had altered her mind so 
quickly, for this would indicate a fickleness of character 
pardonable in a child, but inexcusable in one who had 
blossomed into intelligent womanhood. Donald had 
grumbled for a week or more over the proposed change, 
insisting that it was not only unwise, but a direct re- 
flection upon the wisdom and mercy of Divine Provi- 
dence. When, however, it became fully understood 
that Mr. Becket insisted upon it as an act of justice to 
the girl, which selfishness alone would seek to prevent, 
Donald ceased to refer to the matter despondently, and 
began a patient study of the South and its people with 
a view to preparing himself to serve as Margaret’s 
guardian and counsellor in any contingency which a 
residence in that section might develop. 

It was, as they knew, a long journey to the sea-board, 
weeks would necessarily be consumed by the Landons 
in reaching Raleigh, and still other weeks in the return 
of any letter which might be sent from there; and so 
the matter, having been finally settled, was permitted to 


CALL ME MARK.'' 167 

lie in abeyance for the present, while attention was 
given to affairs of more immediate interest. 

The girl’s own circle of acquaintance began suddenly 
to enlarge. Mr. Boshockle sent his wife and daughters 
to call upon her, other village people sought her out, 
and it was not long before she received invitations to 
afternoon and evening gatherings in Rockboro’. Her 
old schoolmates manifested an increased interest in her 
by visiting Mrs. Crandall’s quite frequently. Even 
Miss Alvirah Carr so far overcame her repugnance, to 
Becket’s Lane, and any feeling of jealousy which she 
may at one time have entertained, as to drive over with 
Sallie Fithian and spend an afternoon with Margaret. 

It’s a poor place,” Miss Alvirah said, as they were 
driving home in the evening. A very poor place, 
but Mrs. Crandall is an interesting woman and a good 
housekeeper. Did you observe how tidy and bright 
everything was ?” • 

Yes ; but I was still more surprised at the appear- 
ance of Margaret’s room. It is crowded with books, 
magazines, and j^ictures. It is no wonder the girl is so 
bright and cheerful. I never understood it before. I 
do now.” 

“ Do you think there is anything in the rumor about 
her fortune in North Carolina?” 

Father is quite sure there is, and Frank Drake 
says that a senator from that State — ^you recollect 
when he and his family were in Rockboro’ — insisted 
upon Margaret’s going home with them. His son’s 
wife is Margaret’s cousin. They did some shopping 
in the village. Frank saw the cousin, and says she 


168 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


is an elegant lady, and that they are evidently very 
rich/’ 

Why did she not go ? I would think any place 
preferable to Becket’s Lane.” 

“ And yet it is much pleasanter than I expected to 
find it,” replied Sallie. Indeed, it is very cheerful. 
I am afraid we have been doing injustice to Becket’s 
Lane.” 

It is far better than I thought,” returned Alvirah. 

But it is still not so tempting as to keep one from an 
elegant home, good society, and all the advantages of 
great wealth. There must be some uncertainty about 
the other, or she would not so cling to this.’ 

That may be true,” Sallie responded. 

As the subject now seemed to be exhausted, their 
thoughts reverted to a more fertile theme ; the young 
gentlemen of their acquaintance were commented upon 
with a freedom which, if accurately reported, would not 
have afidfded them any good grounds for self-congratu- 
lation, nor would it, probably, have increased their re- 
spect for the discriminating judgment of two hand- 
some, marriageable women. 

Mr. Jettings had not, by any means, lost sight of 
Margaret; his visits were, indeed, more frequent of 
late than usual. He had always admired her, but 
then he was an ambitious young man, for whom the 
future held brilliant prizes, and he did not, therefore, 
propose to gratify a mere sentiment by any act which 
might clip his wings, and so retard him in his trium- 
phant career through life. In short, he proposed to 
make the most of his opportunities, and one opportu- 


^^CALL ME MARK. 


169 


nity which no young man could afford to neglect was 
that of uniting money and love. Honey and gold, 
typically speaking, constituted Mr. Jettings’s ideal of 
a combination which would assure not only perpetual 
happiness, but that measure of fame, also, without 
which life would be incomplete. 

In Margaret he found long ago the wealth of sweet- 
ness for which his soul yearned ; but he had until re- 
cently failed to discover the other ingredient indispen- 
sable to the full satisfaction of his ambitious heart. 
Of late, however, he had so far satisfied himself that 
she possessed all the requisites to make him happy, 
that he had concluded on the first favorable occasion to 
make her a formal offer, and then trust to luck and his 
own ingenuity to enable him to escape from the fetters 
of wedlock in case future developments should not 
fully sustain his present estimate of her expectations. 
Mr. Jettings’s conduct with respect to this matter was 
admirable, and should afford a useful example to other 
young gentlemen who like him are starting out in life, 
and desire to secure the highest measure of success. 
There were apparent in him no tremor of the nerves, 
no timidity of disposition, no indecisiveness of resolu- 
tion, no doubt that Margaret would spring to meet the 
proposition he had to make with such a profusion of 
grateful thanks, that it might even be necessary for him 
to admonish her that the delightful ceremony uniting 
them forever could not be celebrated at once, and that 
she should, therefore, moderate her joy, and for the 
present cultivate a spirit of patient fortitude. He 
could readily enough see how invaluable he would be 
H 15 


170 "THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

to her in the event of her coming into the possession 
of a large estate. His legal training would qualify 
him admirably for the leasing of plantations, blocks 
of business houses, })rivate residences, auditing ac- 
counts, collecting monthly or annual rentals, and the 
judicious investment of money. He had quite made 
up his mind that his house should be furnished with 
a view to solid comfort, rather than that of ostenta- 
tious splendor, so likely to incite a feeling of envy in 
the breasts of those who were unable to rival it. His 
horses should be sleek and fat, but gentle and safe 
withal. He would go slowly through life, and deport 
himself with that calm, imperturbable tlignity which so 
well becomes a man who, by his wealth and position, 
is far removed from the vicissitudes of ordinary exist- 
ence. 

It was a pleasant afternoon in November — there are 
usually a few bright days in that month, and this was 
one of them. Margaret had gone to the farther side 
of an adjoining field, where a shell-bark hickory had 
been left standing by the woodmen. The ground under 
the wide-spreading branches of the tree was strewn with 
nuts, and Margaret was so busily engaged collecting 
these in her apron and then depositing them in a bas- 
ket, which had now become too full to be easily moved 
from place to place, that she was startled when Mr. 
Jettings called out, — 

Good-evening, Miss Huntly.’^ 

Kecovering from her stooping posture and extending 
her right hand to the young man, while she held the 
folds of her apron with her left, she exclaimed, — 


“ CALL ME MARK.’’ 171 

“ Why, Mr. Jettings ! you took me by surprise. How 
did you find me here 

I saw you from the road, and concluded to run over 
and speak to you.’^ 

Well,’^ she said, emptying the nuts from her apron 
into the basket, “ I am glad you came; but I fear you 
will not be so well pleased, for I shall ask you to help 
me carry the basket in ; see how heavy it is 

That will not displease me, Miss Huntly. May I 
call you Margaret? I think I would feel as if I knew 
you better.” 

Certainly, Mr. Jettings,” she replied, laughing ; 

use the name that suits you best. I am so unaccus- 
tomed to being called Miss Huntly, that when I am, I 
somehow feel as if I were a great way from home.” 

This remark gave Mr. Jettings a chance to suggest a 
topic in which, on this occasion, he felt a vital interest, 
and he did not let it pass unimproved. 

If reports be true, you are now a great way from 
home. Do you contemplate going to it soon, — to that 
home in North Carolina?” 

I shall start next week, Mr. Jettings,” the girl re- 
plied, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. I heard 
from my friends yesterday. I will not go directly to 
North Carolina, but shall spend the winter with them 
in Washington, and in the spring go with Senator Lan- 
don’s family to Raleigh.” 

Oh, Margaret !” he exclaimed. I regret your 
going; I wish I could prevent it.” 

'^And so do I,” said Margaret, sighing; ‘^but I 
must go, I suppose.” 


172 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECHET’S LANE. 


There could be no mistaking this ; the way was open 
to him, — almost too readily, he thought. Should he 
make the leap ? She was almost good enough, without 
expectations, to justify one in offering marriage, and the 
fact that she was actually going struck him as proof con- 
clusive that all the statements respecting her great wealth 
were absolutely true. Before he had full time, however, 
to complete his deliberations, Margaret bent down, and 
taking one arm of the basket in her hand, said, — 

Come, Mr. Jettings, you promised to help me home 
with this.’’ 

“ Certainly, certainly, Margaret. Please call me 
Mark ” 

Mr. Jettings’s sentence was suddenly broken. While 
in the act of stooping his foot rolled on the nuts which 
still covered the ground ; falling forward, his head came 
with a thump in collision with that of Margaret. 

^^Well, Mark,” said she, rising up and laughing 
heartily ; it was hardly necessary to prefer your re- 
quest so forcibly. I fear,” she continued, lifting her 
hand to a reddish spot on her forehead, that I am 
not likely to forget that your name is Mark.” 

‘^Pardon me,” returned the young man, blushing. 
“ My foot slipped, but I trust I have not hurt you.” 

‘^Not at all, not in the least; but if you had broken 
my head I could not have avoided laughing.” 

‘^Margaret,” said Mr. Jettings, solemnly, before 
we return to the house let me say a word to you ; I 
have long wanted an opportunity to speak to you in 
private. I love you, Margaret.” 

Mr. Jettings ” said the girl, soberly. 


^^CALL ME MARK.^^ 


173 


Call me Mark,’’ broke in Mr. Jettings. 

No, no ; I will call you Mr. Jettings, now. Do not 
say anything more on this subject.” 

^^But, Margaret,” persisted the young man, thinking 
possibly his purpose had been misapprehended, “ I de- 
sire to offer you my hand in marriage — to ask you to 
become my wife.” 

I thank you, Mr. Jettings. I am sorry you have 
insisted upon saying so much, and I recognize the fact 
that you have paid me a high compliment, but I must 
decline your offer.” 

But is your refusal so absolute,” he pleaded, al- 
though somewhat stunned by the suddenness of his 
rejection, that I can entertain no hope ? Maybe you 
will think better of it, Margaret ; will you not take 
time to consider before giving a final answer ?” 

‘‘No, no, Mr. Jettings, I desire no time; I know 
now what you suggest is impossible, so forget it.” 

The thought that perhaps the detestable Fenwick had 
gotten ahead of him flashed like a jagged thunderbolt 
through Mr. Jettings’s heart, and he said, — 

“ Will you tell me if — if there is a prior engagement 
in the way ?” 

“ The question is an impertinent one, sir,” she re- 
torted, angrily, “ and I will not answer it. Let us go 
to the house.” 

Jettings was disappointed, nay, sorely vexed at his 
discomfiture, but he rallied quickly, and as the girl was 
walking off alone he called to her, — 

“ Come back. Miss Huntly ; there is no reason why 
you should be angry with one who loves you, and there 


174 belle O' BECKETS LANE. 

is no reason why I should not render a trivial service 
to one who will not permit me to do a greater ; let us 
show that we are still friends by carrying this basket 
to the house.” 

It was a sensible, friendly speech ; and Margaret, 
now feeling ashamed of the curt reply she had given 
him, returned, and the two bending over the basket 
lifted it from the ground, and walked with it toward 
the lane. After they had proceeded a little way, he 
said, kindly, — 

When you get tired. Miss Margaret, we will change 
hands.” 

‘^Let us do so now,” she replied. “The basket is 
heavier than I thought.” 

“You just stand aside, and allow me to manage it,” 
he said. 

“No, no, Mr. Jettings. I cannot permit that. 
You must let me help you, indeed you must.” 

But Jettings, having now succeeded in getting the 
basket to his shoulder, started forward, utterly indiffer- 
ent to her protests, and finally set it down at Mr. 
Crandall’s gate. Wiping the perspiration from his 
face, he turned to Margaret, and offering her his hand, 
said, — 

“ Grant me one favor at least, the favor of not men- 
tioning what occurred in the field to any living soul.” 

“ I do. I pledge my sacred word to that.” 

Good-by, then j and good luck go with you in 
your journey South.” 

“Do not go yet; remain to tea. Mrs. Crandall 
knows you are here, and will expect you. ” 


GOOD-BY. 


175 


Present my apologies. Say that my business en- 
gagements were pressing, and would not permit. 
Good-by.’^ 


CHAPTEE XXL 

GOOD-BY. 

The autumn had been mild ; the first winter month 
had set in pleasantly. The captains of merchant yes- 
sels navigating the chain of lakes extending from Du- 
luth to Buffalo, tempted by fair weather and remuner- 
ative freights, had ventured to remain out longer than 
usual, but now the belated boats were hastening to their 
winter quarters. A steamer, one of the latest of the 
season, had, as was her custom, put into Eockboro’ for 
fuel, and was now lying at tlie dock, nearly ready 
to resume her journey eastward ; on this vessel Mrs. 
Crandall and Margaret were to be borne away from 
their old home. 

Donald was to remain, and go directly to North 
Carolina in the spring, with such of their household 
effects as his wife, after a better knowledge of the 
situation, might think it desirable to carry thither. 

There were friends at the wharf to bid the voyagers 
good speed, but Mr. Becket was not among them. He 
had spent the previous evening at Donald’s and had 
taken his leave there. It consisted simply of the 
formal shake of the hand and good-by. No allusion 


176 BELLE 0 ’ BECKET'S LANE. 

had been made to the conference under the walnut-tree 
a month or more ago. In their intercourse since he 
had studiously avoided everything that might recall 
it to Margaret’s mind. Precious as the recollection was 
to him, he did not desire to have the girl feel that he 
attached any importance to the declarations she had 
made there, and so consider herself in the attitude of 
one committed to a special line of action. He wanted 
her to go feeling that she was wholly unpledged, and 
therefore perfectly free to choose in the light of her new 
surroundings. He was sorely vexed at his inability to 
retain control over his own feelings on that occasion, 
and was quite sure, as he looked back upon the scene, 
that he had involuntarily used words which had better 
have been left unspoken ; but he could not recall them 
now, and the better way he thought was to act as 
though they had not been uttered ; and so he had con- 
tinued to treat the girl with that respectful and kindly 
attention to which she had been accustomed in their 
previous intercourse. 

Mr. Jettings had gone to the landing on the after- 
noon of Margaret’s departure prompted by a consuming 
curiosity to ascertain, if possible, whether the detestable 
Fenwick had really anticipated him in her affections. 
He had no doubt, if this were so, that he had succeeded 
by the most infamous of means, and that an exposure 
of the young man’s true character would induce her to 
abandon him, and perhaps open her eyes to Mr. Jet- 
tings’s own sterling qualities. It was evident to the 
latter that what a young lady of Margaret’s prospects 
needed more than anything else was a companion in life 


GOOD-BY. 


177 


who C50uld be relied upon, one whose word, to use a 
popular and expressive phrase, was as good as his bond. 
That Fenwick could not adhere to the truth upon any 
occasion was a matter of common notoriety. That he 
should therefore presume to seek an alliance with an 
heiress upon whom Mr. Jettings had himself looked 
with favor, was an offence too aggravating to be toler- 
ated, and much too grave to be adequately expressed 
in words. While these reflections were occupying Mr. 
Jettings’s mind he had entered the boat, ascended to the 
ladies’ cabin, and before he was aware of it found him- 
self in close proximity to Mr. Fenwick, who apparently 
was patiently awaiting an opportunity to speak to Mar- 
garet. Fenwick’s recognition of the young lawyer was 
offensively familiar. 

“ Halloo, Mark, how are you ?” 

Mr. Jettings responded to this brief salutation by a 
stately and solemn nod. Fenwick’s very cheerfulness 
struck the lawyer as an indication that matters were 
running smoothly with him, and that he was in some 
way the favorite of fortune. This impression nettled 
Mr. Jettings, and an angry, revengeful, and threatening 
expression settled upon his countenance. Fenwick, by 
no means unobservant of the bearing of his rival, said 
finally, — 

I say, Mark, you haven’t the colic, have you ?” 

If I had, sir,” Mr. Jettings replied, fiercely, “ how 
would it matter to you ?” 

“ Oh, not at all, Mark. That’s the way I prefer the 
colic — in somebody else. I really enjoy a carbuncle 
— when it’s on another man. I am generous in that 
m 


178 


THE BELLE 0’ BECHET’S LANE. 


way, and whenever you want anything like the measles, 
smallpox, colic, or carbuncle, Mark, take them without 
waiting to ask my permission. I shall not mind it, I 
assure you. If I were of an envious disposition I 
would, you know ; or, if I were avaricious, I should be 
wanting everything ; but I can be happy and let my 
friends have some things. But you seem more than 
ordinarily solemn to-day. If you have not the colic, 
it is possible you are bleeding internally over Miss 
Huntly’s departure.’’ 

‘^Mr. Fenwick,” lettings retorted, with considerable 
dignity, and still more anger, ^^your impertinence is 
annoying, sir, and let me warn you not to go too far. 
I have an old score against you, and you may precipi- 
tate a settlement.” 

Thank you for your admonition. I haven’t time 
for the settlement to-day, for, you see, I am going to 
accompany Miss Huntly down the lake.” 

^^By invitation, sir?” 

By special invitation ; in fact, it has been all ar- 
ranged for some time. When I return we will square 
our accounts ; short settlements make long friends. Put 
that down in your note-book ; it is original, and, I think, 
very good.” 

Mr. lettings did not wait to reply; he turned on his 
heel and left the cabin. Fenwick, dod-rabbit it, had 
gotten the start of him. He knew what had occurred 
under the shell-bark hickory a week ago ; he had prob- 
ably told half the people in Kockboro’ that Jettings 
had proposed to Miss Huntly and been rejected ; it was 
doubtless also known that Fenwick and she were be- 


GOOD-BY. 


179 


trothed. Could anything be more vexatious, nay, mad- 
dening, than that this notorious prevaricator sliould be 
taken and he left? Was there, indeed, no overruling 
Providence to take cognizance of sublunary affairs, and 
see that the wicked were put down and the righteous 
exalted? How in the name of all that was sacred 
could this girl see anything attractive in Fenwick ? 
and yet if he — Mr. Jettings — exposed the rascal it 
would be at once said that he was sore over his own dis- 
appointment, and hence sought to injure his successful 
rival. 

While these bitter thoughts were surging through 
Mr. Jettings’s mind, Margaret and Sallie Fithian had 
walked arm in arm out of the cabin, and stood look- 
ing from the forecastle down upon the wharf. Miss 
Sallie caught sight of Mr. Jettings as he was hurrying 
away, and called down to him, — 

Are you not going to bid Margaret good-by 

He stopped, and looking up, Margaret added, — 
Surely, Mr. Jettings, you do not intend to go off 
_without shaking hands with me at least?’’ 

No, no ; I intended to return later,” he said ; but 
as I may not find so good an opportunity again I will 
come to you at once.” 

Fenwick, discovering that the girls had left the 
cabin, went forward to look for them, and was in the 
act of addressing Margaret when Mr. Jettings entered. 
Their faces being turned to the wharf, however, the 
latter gentleman stood for a few minutes unobserved, 
and overheard the conversation. 

^^Miss Huntly,” said Fenwick, am very sorry 


180 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET'S LANE. 


you are going to leave us. I shall not now have the 
heart to remain here myself.’^ 

“Oh, oh,’’ exclaimed Sallie. “Just hear him! 
Don’t believe a word he tells you, Margaret ; he is the 
most unconscionable ” 

“Adherer to the literal fact Miss Sallie has ever 
known,” said Fenwick, completing the sentence for 
her. “ I think,” he continued, in great good humor, 
“ that young ladies nowadays are too fond of fiction, 
and are disposed to regard with disfavor the plain sim- 
ple truth. You are an exception. Miss Huntly. I 
speak generally, of course. If they would only read 
Baxter’s Saint’s Rest, Paley’s Evidences of Christianity, 
or Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, instead of the wild, im- 
possible vagaries of the romancer, it would be better for 
them. I am quite sure it would be better, much better, 
for Miss Sallie. A familiarity with such books would 
enable her to detect in me at least a natural fondness for 
the truth. A sort of rugged, heroic devotion to the 
verities, you know, both remarkable and admirable.” 

“ Goodness gracious, hear the man ! He is a second 
Munchausen.” 

“You refer. Miss Sallie, to the eminent traveller, 
soldier, and statesman,” said Fenwick, bowing. “ I 
thank you. He was a truly good and great man. In 
this time of peace and universal stagnation of affairs, 
however, there is no demand for valor and brain, and 
I cannot, therefore, hope to rival the baron in great 
exploits.” 

“He was a traveller,” retorted Sallie, laughing. 
“ You might at least travel.” 


GOOD-BY. 


181 


To Captain Fitliian’s 

no; in some other direction, — in any direction 
but that. I would rather like to think of you as an 
explorer of places very remote.’^ 

Mr. Jettings, concluding finally that that insufferable 
bore, Fenwick, would never get done with his non- 
sense, now went up, and, offering his hand to Margaret, 
said, — 

I wish you an agreeable journey. Miss Huntly, 
and the best of good fortune. I suppose I may con- 
gratulate you also upon the prospect of having pleasant 
company part of the way at least.’’ 

Yes, all of the way, Mr. Jettings.” 

He felt an almost irresistible desire to pounce on 
Fenwick and cast him overboard ; but then, dod-rabbit 
him, he’d swim out; there was not weight of character 
enough in such a fellow to sink him. Consoled by 
this reflection, he replied, with an assumption of indif- 
ference, — 

Ah, I was not aware of that.” 

Mrs. Crandall is going with me,” Margaret con- 
tinued; she is in the cabin ; you must bid her good-by, 
Mr. Jettings.” 

Indeed ?” exclaimed Jettings, now thoroughly in- 
terested ; but I understood Mr. Fenwick was to ac- 
company you.” 

‘^Mr. Fenwick?” said Margaret, looking at that 
gentleman in surprise. 

I’ve changed my mind, Mark. I did intend to go 
down the lake on business, but I’ve concluded not to 
do so.” 


16 


132 BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LA^E. 

Why, sir/’ Jettings retorted, angrily, ^^you told me 
you were going on Miss Hiintly^s invitation — her special 
invitation, sir/’ 

'^Mark,” replied Fenwick, coolly, you’ve got an 
idea in your head crosswise, and it’s likely to strangle 
your brain.” 

Mr. Jettings was fearfully angry, but he did not 
condescend to make reply, and Margaret, apprehensive 
that there might be a scene, took his arm, saying, — 

You must see Mrs. Crandall before she leaves, Mr. 
Jettings,” and so led him into the cabin. 

Sal lie Fithian had known young Fenwick from her 
childhood ; her father and his were old and intimate 
friends, and she therefore felt at liberty to speak to him 
plainly. When the others had gone she turned to him 
and said, — 

Mr. Fenwick, you seem to have very little regard 
either for the truth or for the feelings of others.” 

Mark is getting to be a regular stilted bore. Miss 
Sal lie. You can have no notion of how stiff he 
has become. He didn’t use to mind a little harmless 
pleasantry, but now it worries him, and whenever he 
assumes the air of owl-like gravity with which of late 
he has been favoring me, I badger him a little. If he 
had had the sense of a woodchuck he would have 
known that what I said was in the way of jest. He 
talks about me, too, behind my back, and says I am 
not as good as I ought to be, and all that.” 

Well, maybe you are not quite so good as you ought 
to be.” 

“ Of course not ; I do not profess to be, but is that 


THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN.” 


183 


any reason why he should talk of me to others ? If 
he has any complaint to make he should come to me 
and have it out/’ 

‘^He may have his defects, Mr. Fenwick, but they 
can hardly justify you in cultivating yours.” 

The bell rang the signal for departure. Old Donald, 
kissing his wife and child, turned from them with moist 
eyes. Margaret’s friends took their final leave hur- 
riedly, and hastening to the wharf stood there waving 
their handkerchiefs. The steamer, following the tor- 
tuous channel out of the harbor, soon passed Narrow- 
point light, and then beyond to the deeper and bluer 
waters of the lake. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

WHY, BY JOVE, THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN.” 

The journey had been a long one ; the greater portion 
of the way was traversed by stage-coach ; to Mrs. Cran- 
dall, however, this seemed an interesting and expeditious 
mode of conveyance. Some ten or twelve years before 
she had gone from New Hampshire to the \yest with 
a caravan of immigrants, and compared with that tedi- 
ous expedition which consumed months, this transit 
by the stage-line was wonderfully satisfactory. ' Mar- 
garet, too, had u^ion the whole found the journey an 
agreeable one. Now and then droll persons were 


184 BELLE 0 ’ BECKET’S LANE. 

picked up on the way who felt it to be their duty 
to enliven the hours by humorous conversation and 
ludicrous anecdotes. Handsome young .ladies seldom 
have occasion to complain in this country of any 
lack of polite attention on the part of their fellow- 
travellers, and IMargaret’s experience was not by any 
means an exception to the rule. The passengers did 
not spare themselves in their efforts to render lier as 
contfbrtable and cheerful as under the circumstances 
was possible. 

It was in the dusk of the evening when the coach 
finally dashed across Monument Square and drew up 
before the hotel in Baltimore. Mrs. Crandall and 
Margaret were to remain here over night, and proceed 
on their way to Washington in the morning. When 
a room had been assigned them, and time taken to 
make such preparations as were necessary after days 
and nights of continuous travel, they descended to the 
dining-room, and, partaking of a substantial meal, felt 
that satisfaction always experienced by the traveller who 
has arrived in safety at a comfortable station within 
easy reach of the place of destination. 

It was still early in the evening. Bising from the 
table, they took time to look about them leisurely before 
again seeking the quiet of their own room. There was 
dancing in the long parlor ; the air was full of music 
and the hum of cheerful conversation. Many elegantly- 
dressed young people were promenading in the heavily- 
carpeted corridors; mirrors extending from floor to 
ceiling doubled and intensified the brilliancy of the 
scene. The evidences of wealth and luxury everv- 


“ THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN.’’ 185 

where apparent suggested to the women of Becket’s 
Lane that the fertile imagination of the story-teller 
of the Arabian Nights had perhaps been unable to 
rival even the actual in his royal descriptions. Here, 
then, was one phase of the great world surpassing in 
magnificence Margaret’s most extravagant conce})tions. 
It was not one, however, calculated to fill her with self- 
confidence. On the contrary, it seemed to her that she 
was looking upon a condition of life for which she had 
never been born, and to which she would never become 
fitted. Becket’s Lane, by contrast, was abjectly poor, 
and she could not help feeling that her own dress — the 
best even she had ever worn — would be regarded with 
derision by people so accustomed to the glitter of gems 
and the other elegancies of personal adornment as 
those around her. If this, then, was a fair type of 
the fashionable world, she was unequal to it. She 
could not hope to find recognition in it; and to live 
wholly ignored, studiously neglected, or simply toler- 
ated as a dependent, would be of all conditions the 
most miserable. She turned, therefore, from that life 
which she believed she was about to enter, dazzled 
by its splendor and with a crushing consciousness of 
her own unfitness for it. It would have been better, 
she thought, if she had never come. In Becket’s 
Lane she was at home and happy ; here she feared 
that she could never be. Would not the knowledge 
that there were higher grades of society, which she 
could never hope to reach, be remembered in the 
lower stations with vain yet unavoidable longings for 
the inapproachable that must lead to discontent and 


180 THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

misery? Had she seen too much ever again to be 
contented with the plain, homely, plodding, unattractive 
existence in Bechet’s Lane? She felt, indeed, that the 
old ideal, if not utterly crushed, had been badly shat- 
tered, and that the new one was immeasurably beyond 
her. She realized, also, without formulating the great 
truth, that whatever man’s circumstances may be, he is 
entirely happy so long as he lives up to his own ideal, 
because he is then wholly satisfied. He has touched 
the goal of his ambition, and although it may be 
a comparatively unimportant station, it nevertheless 
serves to fill his heart with contentment. It is natural, 
also, for those who have caught glimpses of what they 
conceive to be a higher life, to be thereafter discon- 
tented in what they regard as a lower one ; but this 
very discontent, it should be remarked in passing, 
disagreeable as it may be, is the spur to all progress, 
for it prompts man to abandon the worse and struggle 
upward towards the better. 

Mrs. Crandall’s motherly eye w^as quick to detect the 
sudden change in the girl, but she attributed it to ex- 
cessive weariness, and therefore suggested that it would 
be well to retire to their room. This they did ; but 
Margaret was not inclined to sleep, and so she sat down 
before the smouldering fire to brood over the scene just 
witnessed, and speculate about the future. This new 
world was brighter and gayer than she expected to find 
it, and, by contrast, her old life seemed intolerably dark. 
The one was full of mystery and beauty, the other 
painfully real and utterly homely. The senses are 
often dazzled and bewildered by society which is novel 


“ THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN.’’ 187 

to us, and it is only after we have come into intimate 
relationship with the brilliant aggregate, and been ab- 
sorbed by it, that we realize fully that it is, after all, 
simply composed of individuals from whom no more 
is expected than discreet and manly bearing. While 
brooding in solitude over unknown phases of life, they 
often assume proportions calculated to awe and intimi- 
date the soul. Many a good soldier has quaked with 
fear in anticipation of a battle whose heart thrilled with 
pleasurable excitement from the moment the contest 
began until the hour of final victory. 

A knock on the door aroused Margaret from her 
meditations. A colored boy entered the room and held 
out a salver, from which Mrs. Crandall took a card 
bearing the name of Richard Landou, junior. Margaret 
was too depressed in spirits to desire to see any one; but 
realizing, after a moment’s reflection, that soon or late 
she must meet the friends she had now travelled so far 
to see, and with the further thought, possibly charac- 
teristic of brave hearts, that if the ordeal must be 
passed the sooner it were done the better, she instructed 
the boy to say to the gentleman that Mrs. Crandall and 
Miss Huntly would meet him in the reception-room at 
once. There was a flush on her face now, and a light 
in her eyes which indicated that under the pressure for 
immediate action her spirits were rallying, and that she 
was reassuming that self-poise habitual to her. She 
had on the instant resolved that she would not weakly 
confess her own inferiority, but make the bravest strug- 
gle possible to maintain herself in the new position. 
This call would give her an opportunity to try her own 


188 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 


mettle, and satisfy her curiosity with respect to that of 
Mr. Land on also. 

Upon entering the reception-room they took seats 
until Mr. Landon should find them. There were a 
number of elegantly-dressed ladies in the room, but the 
critical eye of experience would not have been likely 
to wander from Margaret to their more fashionable 
toilets and handsome apparel. There is a fascination 
in the face and form of a beautiful woman which ren- 
ders the spectator oblivious to her attire ; in fact, the 
very homeliness of her dress may, by contrast, make 
more charming her wealth of hair, rounded cheeks, 
bright eyes, splendid physique, and graceful bearing. 
The cunning devices of the milliner may conceal de- 
fects, but they can add little, if anything, to perfection. 

They had been seated but a few minutes when a young 
gentleman, short in stature, but stoutly built, and rather 
too elegantly dressed to be entirely exempt from a sus- 
picion of foppery, came into the apartment, and looking 
hurriedly over the inmates, finally recognized an elderly 
lady and one young enough to be her daughter. Going 
up to them he held out his hand, and said, — 

‘^Why, Mrs. Iredell and Miss Florence, this is a 
pleasure I did not anticipate. I thought you were 
still in Richmond.’’ 

“ No,” replied the elderly lady, as she took the young 
man’s hand. We have been here now over a week.” 

Can that be so ? Miss Florence, I hope you are 
very well. I am sorry I did not know you were here. 
If I had I should have hunted you up. I came to the 
city yesterday.” 


“ THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN.’* 


189 


Margaret was so near that she could not avoid hear- 
ing every word that passed, and unconsciously became 
deeply interested in the conversation from the first. 

Well, I wish you had done so,^^ replied Miss Flor- 
ence. ^‘It has been intolerably dull. We are now 
waiting for Tom. He promised to take us to the 
theatre, but, as usual, he is late.’’ 

It is still early, my child ; Tom will be here in 
good time,” replied the mother. 

he comes on time it will be because his watch 
has accidentally gone wrong. He always makes it a 
point to be an hour late,” replied Miss Florence, in a 
tone which suggested that she was in a far better humor 
than her words might indicate. 

You are coming to Washington, Mrs. Iredell, be- 
fore you return to Wilmington?” the young man 
asked. 

We shall spend a couple of weeks there. Ah, here 
comes Thomas.” 

Halloo, Dick !” said Thomas, heartily. When 
did you turn up, old fellow?” 

I came yesterday, but only just now discovered that 
you were here.” 

You’ll join us? I’ve secured a box. Florence, 
there, hasn’t had a beau for a week ; she’s in the sulks. 
You’ll cheer her up.” 

“ Yes, any change would be for the better,” replied 
Miss Florence, laughing. Go with us, Air. Landon, 
and let mother have the full benefit of the stupidity of 
her hopeful son.” 

She’ll enjoy it,” retorted Tom, good-humoredly.. 


190 


THE BELLE O’ BECHETS LANE. 


Florence mistakes depth for stupidity, Dick ; every- 
thing is stuj)id that’s beyond her comprehension.” 

Feally,” said Landon, I would be delighted to go, 
but I have a confounded awkward engagement that will 
prevent. Had I known it half an hour earlier, I could 
have postponed my engagement until morning just as 
well as not.” 

Mr. Landon,” said Margaret, rising and turning 
her flushed face to the little group, it was but an in- 
stant ago that I knew who you were. I could not 
avoid overhearing your conversation. I am the per- 
son whom you expected to meet. I can just as well 
see you in the morning. Do not let your engagement 
with Mrs. Crandall and myself prevent your going.” 

To say that the eyes of the four persons were turned 
upon Margaret in astonishment, would be but a mild 
statement of the literal fact. The girl stood flushed 
and trembling under the excitement of the occasion, 
for, to tell the truth, Mr. Landon’s reference to the 
awkward engagement which would deprive him of the 
])leasure of accompanying his friends, was neither ac- 
cepted as a compliment to herself, nor as an indication 
of manliness on the part of one who had sought the in- 
terview. In justice to Mr. Landon, however, it should 
be observed that his remark was simply the ordinary 
and formal expression of regret with which gentlemen 
are in the habit of declining an invitation that either 
inclination or business will not permit them to accept. 
And certainly on this occasion he had no desire to avoid 
or postpone his interview with Margaret; on the con- 
trary, he was anxious to get Mrs. Iredell and her fam- 


THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN.^^ 191 

i]y out of the way, so that they should ascertain noth- 
ing of the purpose which had brought him hither. He 
knew very well that the time had not yet arrived wlien 
his father would desire that his own active efforts in 
bringing Margaret forward as a contestant for one-half 
of her grandfather’s estate should be known either to the 
Iredell family or the world at large. The father had not, 
it is true, been able to entirely conceal the fact of Marga- 
ret’s existence, for the daughter-in-law had revealed this; 
but the theory that she was a daughter of Caroline Ire- 
dell was regarded by those most interested pecuniarily as 
at least improbable, if not wholly absurd, for against it 
was the evidence given in open court that Mrs. Huntly 
had died childless, and the further fact, in corrobora- 
tion of the truth of this testimony, that many years 
had elapsed during which no communication, written 
or oral, had been received from her or her heirs. It 
was readily conjectured, therefore, that the senator had 
been deceived by the accidental resemblance of the girl 
to one whose face he had not looked upon for nearly a 
quarter of a century. 

Have I the honor to address Miss Huntly ?” said 
young Landon, embarrassed by the awkwardness of his 
position. 

I am Margaret Huntly, and this is Mrs. Crandall,” 
Margaret replied, haughtily. 

“ Miss Huntly,” he said, turning to his companions, 
this is Mrs. Iredell ; her daughter. Miss Florence ; 
her son, Mr. Thomas Iredell.” 

The elder lady did not extend her hand. She con- 
tented herself with a stately nod of recognition, rather 


l\)2 BELLE O' B EGRET'S LANE. 

cold and formal, but still polite. Miss Florence, how- 
ever, courtesied gracefully, and Tom was in an ecstasy 
of delight. Taking Margaret’s hand, he exclaimed, — 

Why, by Jove ! this is our mysterious cousin, and 
the handsomest member of the family. Why, Dick, 
why didn’t you tell us Miss Huntly was here?” 

I only knew it myself an hour ago, and it is less 
than fifteen minutes since I discovered you.” 

True ; but I wonder you did not speak of it the 
first thing,” said Tom, heartily. It was she you had 
made an engagement with, and you thought of the en- 
gagement, but didn’t mention her. Cousin Huntly, — 
for you are my cousin, not his, — you must go with us, 
indeed you must.” 

Margaret could not help smiling at the young man’s 
good humor and evident kindness of disposition, but 
she replied, — 

You must excuse me, Mr. Iredell. I — I — am not 
prepared to go out.” 

But you must prepare yourself. Mother, you are 
the young lady’s aunt ; exercise your authority ; sister, 
come to the rescue. I shall not move a peg to-night 
unless our cousin goes with us.” 

Thus appealed to, the mother could not well do 
otherwise than beg Margaret to accompany them, and 
Miss Florence was really cordial in her solicitations. 
Margaret, now thoroughly at ease, and feeling remark- 
ably well over the kindness of her reception, turned 
inquiringly to Mrs. Crandall. 

If you are not too weary, my child.” 

Oh, no. I am not that at all.” 


“ THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN. IQ;] 
Then go.” 

‘‘ But you will accompany us, Mrs. Crandall,” re- 
marked Mr. Tom, who felt that ordinary politeness at 
least required him to extend an invitation to one who 
stood in the relation of mother to the young lady. 

‘^No, no. I shall not go, Mr. Iredell. But I will 
gladly put Margaret in the keeping of her aunt for 
a time.” 

While Margaret hastened with Mrs. Crandall to her 
room to obtain her wraps, Mrs. Iredell said to her 
son, — 

“ You seem very ready to accept this young lady as 
your cousin, Thomas; but the idea that any such 
relation exists is preposterous.” 

That may be so, mother ; but she’s a splendid girl, 
and so long as it pleases her to acknowledge the con- 
nection, I shall not deny it.” 

Sister Caroline says,” remarked Miss Florence, 
that she has been reared in poverty ; that they live 
in the humblest sort of a cabin in the West.” 

^^It don’t matter,” replied Tom, if she lives in the 
open air; by Jove, I think she does, for you can see 
the very sunshine in her cheeks.” 

Oh, Tom !” exclaimed his sister. I believe you 
are in love with the girl already.” 

But how did you know she was here, Dick ?” Tom 
asked, under the inspiration of a new thought. 

I saw her name on the hotel register.” And then, 
after a moment, during which he reflected that this ex- 
planation would not be accepted, and that further eflbrts 
at concealment would only serve to complicate matters, 
in 17 


194 BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 

he continued, The fact is, she had written father that 
she was coming to Washington, and he suggested that 
I had better meet her liere, and take her over in the 
carriage/^ 

Ah, your father still thinks she is an Iredell f’ 
Mrs. Iredell asked. 

Undoubtedly,’’ returned the young man. And then 
thinking he had perhaps said too much, he added, At 
least he says her resemblance to the late Caroline Ire- 
dell is most remarkable.” 

Has he any other evidence ?” 

Really, I do not know, Mrs. Iredell.” 

The resemblance may be accidental, — indeed, it 
must be.” 

^AVell,” said Tom, ^Ut is not the girl’s fault; let us 
treat her well. If she is our cousin, we should in all 
manliness and justice be the first to recognize the fact, 
and bid her welcome to whatever advantages it may give 
her. I do not propose to fight for what belongs to a 
girl like her.” 

But you will at least investigate the evidence, and 
ascertain whether she has any claim or not,” the mother 
responded, curtly. 

‘^Certainly,” replied the young man; but I shall 
do so in a friendly way, — in a way respectful to her 
and creditable to ourselves, and shall be careful to 
throw no obstacles in the path of her investigations. 
She has lived in poverty for twenty years. If we 
during that time have been enjoying her wealth, we 
owe her something ; in fact, we are greatly indebted to 
her, and we must pay the debt like honest folks.” 


“ THIS IS OUR MYSTERIOUS COUSIN.'^ 195 

Margaret now re-entered the room. Tom, rising, 
offered her his arm, leaving to Landon the pleasant 
task of escorting his mother and Miss Florence. 
Feaching the street Iredell called a carriage, and 
putting the four inside, climbed on to the box with 
the driver. 

The first act had terminated when they entered the 
theatre, and the curtain was down. After they were 
comfortably seated, Tom turned to Margaret and said, 
pleasantly, — 

^^Well, you are our cousin. Do you know how 
greatly surprised we were to see you 

‘^Oh, yes,’^ replied Margaret, misapprehending him. 

knew you would be, and disappointed, also; but 
you must bear in mind, Mr. Iredell, that I am from 
the West, from the country, and do not, therefore, look 
like other people. I feel now as if I had gotten into a 
new world.’’ Margaret was thinking of the plainness 
of her attire, and of the elaborate and expensive apparel 
of those around her ; but Tom was meditating on other 
things, and so replied, jocosely, — 

You do not look like other people, and I feel, too, 
as if I had gotten into a new world ; but it is a very 
agreeable one. Cousin Margaret, and I propose to live 
in it as long as you will let me.” 

Oh, it is not my world at all. It is a fairy world, 
an unsubstantial sort of place, that may disappear be- 
fore the morning.” 

Well, well, cousin, if you remain I shall be content 
with what is left.” 

There is much, indeed, to be seen now,” interposed 


196 


THE BELLE. 0 ’ BECHETS LANE. 


Landon, “that will vanish before morning. If you 
were to come suddenly upon some of these ladies at 
noon to-morrow, for instance, you would be astonished 
at the great change which had in so short a time taken 
place in their personal appearance.’^ 

“ They are beautiful to-night,” said Margaret ; “ but 
how of the gentlemen, Mr. Landon ? Do they look 
one way by night and another by day ? You see I 
want to be quite certain that I shall know you in the 
morning. In this land of sudden transformation! you 
have some way, surely, by which you recognize your 
friends.” 

“Oh, you will know them,” said Miss Florence. 
“They are always handsome, and, what may seem 
strange to you, with all their apparent modesty they 
know it, and are proud of it.” 

“It is pleasant to know that,” returned Margaret, 
“ and to know that they know it ; for the knowledge 
must make them very happy.” 

“Tom,” said Landon, “I think they are making 
sport of us.” 

“ No, no, they would not undertake to do that. They 
are simply asserting a truth. I maintain that the men 
are handsome.” 

“ That’s right,” replied his sister. “ I think so myself; 
in fact, it was I who made the discovery ; but I regret 
to hear Mr. Landon say the ladies are not what they 
seem.” 

“ I did not say that exactly. Miss Florence,” said 
Landon. “ Some of them are even better than they 
seem.” 


‘ ‘ THIS IS 0 UR MYSTERIO US CO USIN. ” 1 9 7 

Well, that is reassuring/^ replied Florence. I be- 
gan to fear there were not any of them good enough for 
the gentlemen.’^ 

Too good, — entirely too good. Miss Florence.’^ 

What ! for such handsome gentlemen ? You must 
be joking, Mr. Landon.’^ 

The further exchange of badinage was for the pres- 
ent interrupted by the rising curtain. When the play 
ended Iredell had them driven to a famous eating- 
hoijse, and as they sat about the table he said to Mar- 
garet, — 

“ Did you enjoy the play, cousin 

Very much. It was all so new to me. The scenes 
on the stage seemed as real and lifelike as those in the 
auditorium.^’ 

I am glad to know you were interested.” 

The words were spoken in such evident sincerity, 
and indicated so plainly that he meant more than he 
said, that Margaret turned to him, in confidence. 

I have been greatly pleased, and very happily dis- 
appointed also. When I first caught a glimpse of the 
splendor of the hotel, and of the fashionable people 
there, I thought I should never be able to hold up my 
head in such a brilliant place, and was sorry even that 
I had left my home in the West. I felt quite sure 
that you were all proud and haughty, and would prob- 
ably not notice me at all ; but you have been very kind, 
Mr. Iredell, and — and I am charmed with everything, 
and especially by your kindness.” 

Tom looked into Margaret’s eyes and saw there 
nothing but honest purity; he saw in her face, also, a 
17 ^ 


198 BELLE 0 ’ BECKET’S LANE. 

charm which he had never before recognized in woman, 
and his voice betrayed more than ordinary feeling, 
when he replied, — 

I am delighted to hear that. Cousin Margaret, and 
I trust nothing will ever occur to induce you to have 
other than a good opinion of us/^ 

‘‘Thank you. I am quite sure now that nothing 
will.” 

“It is possible — probable, indeed — that we have 
been enjoying property which of right belongs to you. 
If so, it shall be made right, so far as it is possible for 
me to make it right.” 

“ I was not thinking of that ; indeed, I do not care 
for that.” 

“I do,” he said, emphatically. “I do; we have 
heard of you for some months now. My sister, Mrs. 
Charles Landon, told us about you ; and we have 
been thinking of you with curious interest, endeav- 
oring to persuade ourselves that you were not our 
cousin, and yet with a secret fear that you might be, 
just as if, let the facts be as they may, there were not 
enough for us all. I tell you, by Jove, I believe you 
are our cousin ; and if there is going to be any struggle 
over the matter, I am on your side.” 

“There will be no struggle,” replied Margaret. 
“ There shall be none. I did not come to bring con- 
tention. I have been reared to look upon honest pov- 
erty as a blessing, and have no such desire for wealth 
as could induce me to sacrifice my own happiness and 
that of others in order to obtain it.” 

“You shall be no more generous than we are. We 


THE FAMILY PARTY. 


199 


would stand disgraced if we permitted you to outdo us 
in this regard.” 

When they returned to the hotel, and Margaret 
finally retired, she felt that the future looked infinitely 
brighter than it did a few hours before; and so, with 
pleasant reflections upon the evening and her new 
friends, she sank into that dreamless slumber which 
comes to those who have perfect health and a contented 
mind. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE FAMILY PARTY. 

Senator Landon had taken a roomy house in a 
pleasant neighborhood, and his family were comfort- 
ably settled for the winter. The servants of the house- 
hold had been brought from his North Carolina 
residence, and all his surroundings were cheerful and 
homelike. His family had spent so much time at the 
capital, and formed so many agreeable acquaintances 
there, that they had come to regard the place as a de- 
lightful resort for the winter months. 

Mrs. Crandall and Margaret were received with great 
cordiality and assigned to elegant apartments. From 
the first the girl was entertained as a daughter of 
the house, her slightest wants being anticipated by 
Mrs. Landon as if she were indeed her own child, for 
whom she could not do otherwise than make generous 


200 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


provision. Margaret hesitated to accept the gifts 
showered upon her so profusely, and finally protested 
against what she could not help regarding as un- 
necessary and excessive liberality; but her reluctance 
was at last overcome in part by cordial assurances that 
she was conferring a favor by their acceptance, and in 
part by the knowledge that her protests were wholly 
disregarded. 

When Mr. Thomas Iredell visited Washington with 
his mother and sister a few weeks after Margaret’s 
arrival, he found that a remarkable change had taken 
place in her apparel and personal appearance. She 
was no whit lovelier, he thought, than when he first 
met her; and, had he been consulted, he would per- 
haps have continued her in the plain attire which 
carried with it the delightful flavor of green fields, 
leafy groves, and secluded lanes, and possibly savory 
suggestions of fresh milk, creamy cheese, and other 
adjuncts of pastoral life. Still Mr. Iredell was not in 
a position to dictate, and on second thought he was 
not sure that a return to the former style would now 
be desirable; for the fashionable apparel rendered 
more conspicuous that beauty which in plainer garb 
or quieter colors might not so quickly have challenged 
the attention of the unobservant, and so, to some extent 
at least, might have failed to confer all the pleasure 
possible upon others. She was lovely before, and 
queenly now. It might be, indeed, that she was not an 
Iredell ; but, by Jove, the family need not worry them- 
selves in the effort to disprove a connection that would 
do them infinite credit, and, so far as he was concerned. 


THE FAMILY PARTY. 


201 


individually, he was ready not only to admit the claim, 
but to insist upon a still closer relationship. 

Mr. Thomas Iredell had been for some years busily 
engaged in sowing his wild oats. I do not mean by 
this that he had any habits not common to reputable 
young men who have abundance of money, and still 
more of leisure, but that he had not yet settled down 
soberly to the more serious concerns of life. Like 
most Southern gentlemen, he was a good shot, a fine 
horseman, and a genial, companionable fellow, extremely 
sensitive to any reflection upon his honor, and yet at 
all times ready to lay a wager on the turn of a card or 
the result of a horse-race. His father had inherited a 
propensity for money-gathering that degenerated finally 
into the most niggardly selfishness. It was this, in all 
probability, which predisposed the son to a course dia- 
metrically opposite. The child is always quick to de- 
tect any objectionable trait in the character of a parent, 
and is likely to brood over it until it comes to be re- 
garded as a deformity, the very thought of which 
brings to his face a flush of mortification. It is for 
this reason that the sons of those who are exceedingly 
penurious generally turn out to be excessively extrav- 
agant, and so, in respect of wealth, begin where the 
fathers leave off and end where the fathers began. 
Let all this, however, be as it may, it is absolutely cer- 
tain that the father of Thomas Iredell had found his 
chief pleasure in the accumulation of wealth, while the 
son derived his principal enjoyment through its dis- 
bursement. But then the means of the latter were 
ample, and he could, therefore, gratify his inclinations 


202 


THE BELLE O’ BECHETS LANE. 


in this regard without any fear of impairing his estate. 
It was possibly a knowledge of this fact which led him 
into many extravagant expenditures, for he was, with 
all his faults, a young man of rare good sense, who 
never lost sight of the future and its probable demands 
upon him. He was one year younger than Richard 
Landon, junior, — that is to say, he was twenty-five. He 
was of that age when life seems most attractive to men, 
when more thought is given to pleasure than to matters 
of business. 

Richard Landon, junior, had not been at all remiss in 
his attention to Margaret. The girl had grown upon him 
as she had upon others. Af^ she became each day more 
and more accustomed to the new life, and more familiar 
with the habits and peculiarities of those who partici- 
pated in it, there were developed in her aptitudes for 
the new condition surprising to those who had taken it 
for granted that hitherto she had been deprived of all 
social advantages. But Mrs. Crandall had so thor- 
oughly grounded her in all knowledge essential to one 
who mingles with educated people that she was never 
at loss for a genial word, and was ever wonderfully 
prompt in meeting any unexpected demand upon her 
intellectual and social resources. 

It is not my desire to exaggerate Margaret’s accom- 
plishments, but to present her simply for what she was, 
— a well-bred, sensible, sprightly, beautiful girl, reared 
in humble circumstances, and yet possessed of all the 
qualities requisite to adorn any station in life. We 
meet with such types occasionally, and not infrequently 
in places where we least expect to find them ; but, as a 


THE FAMILY PARTY. 


203 


rule, they have not been so fortunate as to have had the 
care of such a tutor as Mrs. Crandall, and generally, 
perhaps, they have lacked the opportunity which the 
accident of birth afforded to Margaret. 

There are natural leaders, prominent for great quali- 
ties of head, or heart, or person, to whom we instinc- 
tively render homage, — born kings and queens, who bear 
about them the Creator’s own stamp of royalty. Some 
reign in St. James, some at the Tuileries, some in Shin- 
Bone Alley, and some have quiet domains in the far 
country, among flocks and herds, but they neverthe- 
less all alike belong to God’s nobility, and her high- 
ness the queen of Mud Lane is in natural gifts no whit 
inferior to her royal cousin of St. Germain. Had she 
been favored by accident she would have shone as 
brightly in the proudest court of the world as the best 
of them. 

Margaret was not only of this highly-favored class, 
but she had b^en so fortunate also as to have an in- 
structor whose care and skill were quickened into un- 
ceasing activity by parental love and that ever-present 
sense of responsibility which a Christian woman feels 
who has in her charge a human soul to be fitted for 
time and eternity. And so, although reared in a cabin, 
she had lacked no essential part of the education of a 
gentlewoman. 

Mrs. Iredell and her daughter were still lingering 
in Washington, although the former had on every day 
of the last month threatened to leave on the day fol- 
lowing, or at farthest within the ensuing week. Mr. 
Thomas Iredell was still there. Mr. Charles Landon 


204 the belle O’ BECKETS LANE. 

had come on with his wife, after the holiday s, to spend 
a month in his father’s family. And so it came about 
that on an evening late in January they were all 
assembled in the Landon parlors. It was a family 
gathering, and yet there were a few other persons 
present, personal friends; among these the wife and 
daughter of Senator Landon’s colleague in the Senate, 
one or two members of Congress from North Carolina, 
and a few young people of the immediate neighbor- 
hood, — enough altogether to form a whist-party in one 
room and a dancing party in the other, should there 
be a disposition on the part of the guests to seek a 
division of this kind. 

Mr. Thomas Iredell was on this occasion specially 
attentive to his cousin Margaret. His mother had not 
yet come to look graciously upon his evident readiness 
to recognize the girl as a member of the family. She 
had, however, like a sensible woman, settled down to 
the conviction that, after all, Margaret’s relations to 
them would depend wholly upon the evidence adduced 
in her behalf, and therefore no amount of vexatious 
worrying over the matter in advance could in any way 
affect the future result,, and so she had concluded to 
treat her with that ordinary politeness which conceded 
nothing, except that while the guest of her friends she 
was entitled to respectful consideration. But, as has 
been time and again suggested, Mr. Thomas Iredell 
was neither disturbed nor restrained by any fear that 
Margaret’s claim would be allowed, and on this as on 
other occasions he did not attempt to disguise the fact 
that her society was agreeable to him. 


THE FAMILY PARTY. 


205 


On this particular evening the company had finally 
drifted from dancing to quieter amusements. Miss 
Florence, after much solicitation, had been induced to 
favor them with a song, and she sang very prettily the 
lament of a despairing maiden whose lover had wan- 
dered off, as lovers sometimes will, and keep their 
sweethearts in the most distressing suspense. It was a 
tender song, and duly appreciated, especially by the 
young ladies present who had had some slight experi- 
ence with gentlemen whose attentions were such as to 
leave their purpose shrouded in ambiguity. But for- 
tunately there was a companion piece to this song, of 
a more hopeful and gratifying nature, and this Miss 
Florence was also persuaded to sing. It told of una- 
voidable detention, of indescribable hardships, of unfal- 
tering love, of the final return of the lover, and of 
mutual happiness. It was a pathetic vindication of the 
fidelity of man, — a truthful and unexaggerated pre- 
sentation of the fact that he would always, always re- 
turn to his sweetheart if he could, and that having 
made his choice and pledged his word, he could ever 
afterwards be relied upon with the most absolute cer- 
tainty. 

Florence, having now done impartial justice to the 
gentlemen who for a time had been the subjects of 
unjust suspicion, and put her lady friends in a more 
hopeful frame of mind, successfully resisted all en- 
treaties to indulge her audience further. It was tlien 
suggested that Miss Huntly should favor them. Mar- 
garet endeavored to escape by laughing at the absurdity 
of the request, or, rather, at the absurdity of the idea 
18 


20G the belle O’ beckets lane . 

that she could sing, but in this she was not successful. 
The more she sought to evade the task the more clam- 
orous they became. In fact, they were quite unani- 
mously of the opinion that she could sing; and they 
were quite right ; none could do so more sweetly ; but 
having had little cultivation in this respect, she was 
distrustful of her own power to meet their expectations, 
and, therefore, consented very reluctantly. 

Her repertory, although quite extensive, was not one 
affording great variety. It embraced, however, choice 
selections from the better poets, and was especially rich 
in the simple old Scotch ballads which delighted 
Donald. With the aptitude for mimicry common to 
youth, she had caught from him the brogue of the 
lowland Scot, and could render the songs in the dialect 
of the country in which they originated. Her hearers 
were therefore filled with pleasant astonishment on 
this occasion when she gave them what old Donald 
would have called a gude Scotch sang that stirs the 
bluid like a whiff o’ hieland air. 

“ Keen blaws the win’ o’er the braes o’ GlenitFer, 

The auld castle turrets are covered with snaw ; 

How changed frae the time when I met wi’ my lover 
Amang the broom-bushes by Stanley green shaw ; 

The wild-flowers o’ summer were spread a’ sae bonnie, 

The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree ; 

But far to the camp they hae marched my dear Johnnie, 
And now it is winter wi’ nature and me. 

•»«■ * ***** 

“ Yon cauld, sleety cloud skiflTs alang the bleak mountain, 
And shakes the dark firs on the steep rocky brae, 

While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, 
That murmured sae sweet to my laddie and me. 


f 


THE FAMILY PARTY. 


207 


It’s no its loud roar on the wintry wind swellin’, 
It’s no the cauld blast brings the tear i’ my e’e ; 
For oh I ’gin I saw but my bonnie Scots callan, 
The dark days o’ winter were summer to me.” * 


This song was received by her little audience with 
noisy demonstrations of delight, and they would not 
be content until she consented to favor them with 
another. 

You will promise to let me off if I sing one more ?’^ 
she asked, laughing. 

No, no ; we cannot promise that,^’ replied Senator 
Land on. 

Well, then, I must be obstinate and refuse alto- 
gether.’^ 

Very well, then, we’ll make the promise.” 

Margaret now sang a favorite of old Donald’s, found 
in a then recent number of Blackwood’s Magazine, 
and hitherto given in these pages. 

“ Good-night, an’ joy be wi’ you a’, 

We’ll maybe meet again the morn.” 

It is possible that this simple song, so suggestive of 
good-fellowship and delightful woodland scenes, could 
have been rendered more artistically, but if the success 
of an effort be measured by its effect, Margaret’s song 
was a triumph in its way, for her hearers were delighted. 
It is quite certain, at any rate, that an hour later, when 
Mr. Thomas Iredell was escorting his mother and sister 
to their hotel, they caught him humming, — 


* Kobert Tannahill. 


208 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


It 'We’ve ranged the dingle and the dell, 

The hamlet and the baron’s ha’, 

Now let us take*a kind farewell, 

Good-night, and joy be wi’ you a’.” 

Whereupon Miss Florence declared that Tom was 
not only in love with Margaret, but was so far gone in 
this respect as to have lost all control of his own 
thoughts. 

‘^Well,’’ rejoined the brother, “if I am to fall in 
love at all, why should it not be with Miss Huntly ? 
Do you know a more interesting girl, Florence 

“But one should not do such things hastily,’’ said 
the mother. 

“ I am very deliberate ; I have known her a month 
now.” 

“ And haven’t proposed yet ?” said Florence, with a 
laugh. 

“Not yet.” 

The thought that after all Tom might settle Marga- 
ret’s claim, in case it should prove to be valid, without 
any diminution of the family estate was a suggestive 
one, over which Mrs. Iredell pondered with considera- 
ble satisfaction, and from this evening she began to 
regard the girl more favorably. 


MR. IREDELL'S CONCLUSION. 


209 


CHAPTER XXiy. 

MR. IREDELL CONCLUDES TO REMAIN IN WASHING- 
TON ANOTHER WEEK. 

The younger Landon was not slow to apprehend 
that his parents would be highly gratified if he were to 
marry Margaret. They had, it is true, never given ex- 
pression to their wishes in this regard to him directly, but 
their considerate treatment of the girl, and the evident 
pleasure which her presence gave them, together with 
the tone of absolute certainty in which they referred to 
her estate, all meant simply that Margaret and her for- 
tune would be valuable acquisitions to the Landon 
family, and that the young man should improve the 
opportunity afforded by daily association with her, to 
secure them beyond a peradventure. When he first 
began to hear of Margaret and her prospects, he at- 
tributed much that was said in her behalf to the fact 
that she was, prospectively at least, an heiress; for it 
was difficult for him to bring his mind to the belief that 
one whose home had been but little, if any, superior to 
a negro cabin on a Southern plantation, could, in- 
dependent of property considerations, be regarded as a 
desirable companion for a gentleman who might aspire 
to an alliance with the best families of the country. 
He had been much in society, for the Southern people 
are eminently social, and he had of course not arrived 


210 BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE. 

at the age of twenty-six without some experience in 
those little affairs of the heart to which young men 
recur with a thrill of delight. In fact, there were soft- 
eyed and dimple-cheeked beauties between whom and 
himself there had already been suggestions of that re- 
lationship which, in theory at least, is indissoluble. It 
may be true that no binding word had been uttered, 
but there had been the droop of the eye,, the gentle 
pressure of the palm, the sudden flush of the cheek, 
and tremulousness of voice which invariably precede, 
sometimes for years, any formal acknowledgment of 
mutual love. He had, therefore, gone to Baltimore, to 
meet Margaret, in grave doubt whether even the girl’s 
wealth would be a sufficient compensation for the sac- 
rifice lie would be compelled to make in order to secure 
it. That there would be any hesitation on her part to 
an alliance with him he did not even suspect. Man — 
and we, speak of him now in a generic sense — never 
regards anything highly which comes to him without 
a struggle; to be valuable it must be difficult of attain- 
ment. The woman who falls easily invariably misses 
the anticipated support, and the susceptible, however 
worthy they may be in other respects, are generally the 
butt of their acquaintances. It was the certainty that 
he had only to stoop and gather that led young Landon 
at first to regard Margaret with critical indifference ; 
he detected at once the plainness of her attire, but failed 
to observe the compensating advantages of her face and 
form. Iredell, on the contrary, whose atte-ntion had 
been called to her suddenly, and without previous 
thought, recognized at once her marvellous beauty ; and 


MR. IREDELL^ S CONCLUSION. 211 

it is more than probable that Landon would have done 
the same had he not been thinking of her for weeks as 
one who could be too easily secured to render the effort 
of winning her at all interesting. Within the last 
month, however, his opinion of her had changed ma- 
terially. She had neither sought nor avoided him. 
She was perfectly at her ease in his presence, and never 
failed to maintain herself creditably in conversation ; 
in fact, there were many subjects with respect to which 
she was far better informed than he, and she did not 
hesitate to give him the benefit of her more accurate 
knowledge, even when she knew that an exposure of 
his ignorance would be humiliating to him. But then 
she was always as ready to laugh with him as at him, 
and the very fact that he could not tell whether the girl 
cared for him or not made his association with her all 
the more interesting. He had, on one or two occa- 
sions, ventured upon a word or two of sentiment in 
order to test her in this particular, but this only elicited 
a shower of cheerful raillery which made him hasten 
back to his better known and more defensible posi- 
tions, glad to escape without the full exposure of his 
design. It might be that she did not care for him, but 
he could hardly bring himself to believe that such was 
the fact. She certainly had not manifested any anxiety 
to ingratiate herself into his favor; but then a modest 
girl, having a proper sense of self-respect, could not do 
this; she could make no overtures; on the contrary, 
she was bound to remain silent until lie had himself 
put her in position to speak. 

Whatever may have been his feelings towards her at 


212 the belle O’ BECHETS LANE. 

first, it is quite certain that long before the winter 
months ended he had resolved, so soon as the way 
seemed clear to do so, to make an unequivocal declara- 
tion of his love, and an ofier of marriage. He was 
the more eager now to do this, because it was obvious 
that Margaret had other admirers, some of whom at 
least were, in respect of wealth and social standing, un- 
exceptionable. There was Iredell, for instance, who 
could not be induced to abandon Washington, although 
it was now nearly spring, and months later than he at 
first contemplated going, and Iredell, as everybody 
knew, was very free to confess his admiration for Mar- 
garet. Then, again, it began to be apparent that his 
father was growing anxious on the subject. The sena- 
tor’s scheme had progressed slowly, and he could not 
bring himself to regard its possible failure without at 
least a touch of bitterness. The young man began to 
feel a little uneasy, and to realize that if he intended 
to strike at all he must do so quickly, or the prize 
would perhaps vanish beyond recall before even an 
effort had been made on his part to secure it. In jus- 
tice to him, however, it should be said that he now 
thought less of Margaret’s prospective wealth than of 
Margaret herself. The girl had, he believed, become 
indispensable to his happiness ; and he felt that he had 
been excessively stupid to permit so many days and 
opportunities to pass by without showing more evi- 
dences of sul^tantial progress. 

While Mr. Eichard Landon, junior, was waiting and 
watching for a favorable opportunity to ascertain his 
fate, and Margaret was becoming familiar with a phase 


MR. IREDELL'S CONCLUSION. 213 

of life whose chief end is amusement, a skilful attorney, 
employed by Senator Landon early in the winter, had 
pushed his investigations with reference to Margaret’s 
affairs so far as to be able to report, — 

1. That the marriage of Caroline Iredell to Philip 
Huntly must be admitted, the proof being a matter of 
record, and certain of the witnesses to the ceremony 
being still alive. 

2. A female child had been the product of this 
union, this fact being established by the records of the 
Episcopal Church in which she was baptized under the 
name of Margaret. 

3. The two witnesses who had testified that the child 
died in infancy, and the parents at a later period, were 
men of notoriously bad character, and still living. One 
was now in the penitentiary, and the other had been, 
both for tlie crime of perjury. In short, they were 
professional witnesses whose testimony would not be 
accepted where they were personally known. 

In an interview between Senator Landon and Mrs. 
Iredell, at the hotel of the latter, these items of in- 
formation were fully discussed in private, and subse- 
quently made known to Mrs. Iredell’s children. The 
conclusion was then unanimously reached that a contest 
would be productive of scandal to them, and must in- 
evitably result in Margaret’s favor. The resolution to 
make an amicable division of the property, recognize 
the girl as an Iredell, and at the same time withhold 
all the evidence in the case from the public and from 
Margaret herself, was assented to by all. 

Tlie spring had come ; the first days of March were 


214 the belle O' BECHET’S LANE. 

warm and bright, so pleasant that the younger Landon 
and Margaret strolled beyond the canal and across the 
level fieliis which lay between it and the river. The 
Potomac was swollen now by recent rainfalls, and 
merchant vessels were working slowly against the cur- 
rent on the way to Georgetown, while others, with sails 
spread to catch all the wind available, were going 
lightly and briskly on their voyage to the open sea. 
Railroads were as yet unknown in Virginia and Mary- 
land. Georgetown and Alexandria were shipping- 
points of no inconsiderable importance. Mount Ver- 
non then, as now, was a place of exceeding interest, 
and still farther down the river, on either shore, were 
numerous little towns and a large population, for which 
the Potomac was the most convenient highway. The 
river on this sunny day was dotted with white-winged 
yachts, and the scene when looked upon from the 
shore where Landon and his companion stood was 
one full of interest and beauty; but the young man 
was not thinking either of the river, the boats, or the 
long line of low hills which lay beyond them. He had 
determined on this day to have an understanding with 
Margaret, and had purposely led her to this solitary 
spot. 

We shall go down the river soon to Norfolk, and 
there take passage for Wilmington,’^ he said. 

‘‘It will be delightful,” the girl replied. “By the 
time we reach North Carolina the forest will be in full 
leaf and the flowers in blossom.” 

“ Yes, I trust it will be pleasant to you, Margaret, 
but — but I fear it may not be so agreeable to me.” 


MR. IREDELL'S CONCLUSION. 


215 


Why not, Mr. Landon?’’ she said, looking up into 
his face with surprise. “Why should it not be as 
pleasant to you as to me?’’ 

“ I did not say it would not ; I said it might not. 
And — and, Margaret, if you will permit me to-day to 
hope that, soon or late — some time, you will be my 
wife, the journey to North Carolina will be a delight- 
ful one to me.” 

There was a tremor in his voice, indicating that his 
words were prompted by a flood of earnest feeling, and 
the girl was startled. 

“ I am sorry to hear you say this, Mr. Landon,” 
she replied, solemnly ; “ very sorry, indeed. I have 
thought of you as a brother, but not — not as a lover. 
Forget what you have said ; let us consider that the 
words were never spoken.” 

“No, no,” he said, resolutely; “that will not do. 
If there is no hope for me I must know it ; if there is 
it will make me very happy. I do not care so much 
how long you compel me to wait. I can be patient, if 
need be.” 

Margaret hesitated, and, turning her face from him, 
looked out upon the river, as if seeking something far 
away, but she was not at all in doubt as to the reply she 
would make. She simply desired to frame an answer 
that would not wound him. 

“ May I accept your silence as an affirmative answer, 
Margaret ?” 

“ No, no, Mr. Landon,” she replied, quickly. “ The 
thing you ask is impossible.” And then bursting into 
tears, she sobbed, “ Oh, why did you think of it or 


216 the belle O' BECHET'S LANE. 

ask it? Surely, I had no thought that you meditated 
such a tiling/^ 

But is it so monstrous a thing, Margaret 
No, it is not that : it is an impossible one.’’ 

“Will you tell me why it is impossible?” he asked, 
with a suggestion of anger in his voice. 

“ There, there, that’s whatTC feared,” replied the girl, 
turning her tearful eyes upon him reproachfully. 
“Now you are angry, Mr. Laiidon.”* 

“ No, no, not angry ; but tell me, Margaret, why I 
am so obnoxious to you.” 

“ Obnoxious to me, Mr. Landon ! You are not. I 
have thought of you as a brother, and as such I have 
respected you. I feel now that you have honored me 
overmuch, and I thank you.” 

“But you cannot think of me as a lover? Is there 
anything impossible in that? anything that in time 
you could not overcome?” 

The girl, turning her flushed face from him, an- 
swered firmly, — ^ 

“There is, Mr. Landon. I cannot think of you 
otherwise than as a friend, and as such I shall esteem 
you always. Let the subject end here and forever. 
Shall we go home ?” 

They had walked part of the way in silence, when 
Margaret sought to get back to their old relation by 
saying, cheerfully, — 

“ It is a very bright afternoon.” 

But he made no answer. The day was evidently 
dark to liim. His rejection had been decisive; rather 
too positive, he thought, to be kindly ; it was crushing. 


MR. IREDELL'S CONCLUSION. 217 

He had been too slow. Iredell had probably spoken 
first and been accepted. Reaching the Landon resi- 
dence he sounded the knocker, and when the servant 
opened the door bowed politely as he took leave of his 
companion, and then started down the avenue. He 
wanted to think the matter over by himself. There 
was a vague notion in his mind that he had better go 
off for a while, that it would no longer be agreeable for 
him to remain under the same roof with Margaret, 
and meet her daily at the family table. As he was 
pushing hurriedly down the street, lost in his own un- 
pleasant reflections, some one called after him, — 

Halloo, Dick ! What’s the haste ?” 

It was Mr. Thomas Iredell. 

Iso hurry,” replied Landon. 

But there’s something the matter. You look as if 
you had lost all your friends.” 

Well, I have not, for you are still with me. Come, 
let’s have a bottle of wine. I do feel a little out of 
sorts.” 

Entering a well-known drinking-house of that day, 
they ascended a carpeted stairway to the second floor, 
Avhen they were met by a colored servant and ushered 
into a comfortable little room, where two easy-chairs 
stood convenient to a marble-topped table. 

Champagne,” said Landon, briefly. Then turning 
to Iredell, he continued, When do you go home?” 

To-morrow.” 

The servant now re-entered the room, uncorked the 
bottle, and decanted the wine. 

I have a great mind to go with you,” said Landon, 


218 the belle O' BECKETS LANE. 

as he put down the empty goblet. The fact is, I am 
tired of Washington, and will either return to E-aleigh 
or go over to New York for a week or two.’^ 

Indeed V’ exclaimed Iredell. I did not think 
you wanted to leave. Why, confound it, Dick, I did 
not imagine it was possible for you to leave.^’ 

“Why not, pray 

“ I did not suppose you could abandon Miss Huntly.” 

“ Why, d — n it, man, is she any more to me than she 
is to you ?” 

“ I thought she was ; in fact, I know,’’ continued 
Iredell, regretfully, “ that she’s nothing to me, for she 
told me so last night.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ I mean, by Jove, that I proposed to her and was 
rejected ; that’s exactly what I mean.” 

“ Well, you seem to take it lightly.” 

“ Lightly ! Not at all. I love the girl, but she 
don’t take my view of the matter, and I don’t propose 
to get angry about it and make a fool of myself ; but 
I thought she rejected me because she preferred you, 
and I wanted to congratulate you on your good luck, 
for I think her the loveliest girl I ever met.” 

“You are very frank with me,” replied Landon; 
“ and I know of no reason why I should not be equally 
so with you. I can assure you, then, that your rejec- 
tion was not caused by any preference she entertained 
for me. I know that.” 

“ May I ask how ?” 

“ From her own lips ; she has rejected me, also.” 

“You don’t tell me? Why, by Jove, I like her 


MR. IREDELL'S CONCLUSION. 219 

better and better. Here, let’s drink long life and 
eternal happiness to Cousin Margaret. She’ll be the 
making of the family. She’s looking high. Nobody 
knows better than you and I that we are a couple of 
poor, worthless shoats, after all. She really refused 
you? Why, Dick, I like you better at .this moment 
than I ever did before in my life; but I love her still 
better. And so you are going away ?” 

‘a am.” 

^^Well, I am not; I shall stay.” 

She may have given you some encouragement,” 
said Landon, sharply. 

Not a whit. She said it was out of the question ; 
that I must not allude to the matter again ; and I did 
not, for I thought you had tlie inside track, and it was 
all up with me. Why, confound her, she’s bound to 
marry somebody, and if you are determined to abandon 
the contest. I’ll re-enlist for life, unless sooner dis- 
charged. Are you sure you are out of the fight ?” 

Absolutely.” 

Iredell, leaning over, rang the bell again, and when 
the servant thrust his woolly head inside the doorway, 
said, — 

Champagne.” 

^'Yaas, mass’r.” 


220 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE, 


CHAPTER XXy. 

THE NEGOTIATION. 

Mrs. Iredell did not leave Washington on the next 
day ; Mr. Thomas Iredell was not yet ready to go. He 
rose on the morning fixed upon for their departure in a 
hopeful mood and in high spirits. The mother and 
sister manifested some little vexation over his sudden 
change of purpose, but they concluded finally that a 
few days more or less in this place or that would be a 
matter of little consequence to them, and so they un- 
packed their trunks and settled down contentedly for at 
least another week of Washington life. It was, per- 
haps, fortunate that they did so, for it gave Senator 
Landon an opportunity to hold another consultation 
with Mrs. fedell touching Margaret. This took place 
at her hotel in the presence of his wife. There was 
now apparently an important link missing in Marga- 
ret’s chain of title ; or, more strictly speaking, a scrap 
of vital evidence was wanting to perfect and establish 
her claim. Just what this was the senator did not 
specify. He was quite certain, however, that unless 
something more definite could be obtained in her 
favor, corroboratory of that already in their possession, 
the courts would not feel warranted in opening up a 
settlement which had been acquiesced in for nearly 
twenty years. Senator Landon did not think it neces- 


THE NEGOTIATION. 


221 


sary in this interview with Mrs. Iredell to deny that 
he had been prompted in all his efforts thus far by a 
desire to do exact justice to one whom he believed to 
be the daughter of an old friend. In proof of his un- 
selfish generosity there could be cited the fact that Mar- 
garet’s legal recognition as a member of the Iredell 
family would inevitably lead to a large diminution of 
the possessions of his own daughter-in-law. Up fo this 
time the whole investigation had been prosecuted by 
himself, and the evidence, such as it was, was wholly 
in his hands. After due deliberation he had been 
forced to the conclusion, most reluctantly, he must ad- 
mit, that her claim could not be substantiated to the 
satisfaction of a court of justice ; he must, therefore, as 
her friend, advise her to abandon the case. But sup- 
pose she were to refuse to do so, or suppose that she 
should for the present consent to take no further steps 
in the matter, and should subsequently conclude to test 
it in the courts, then what course should be pursued ? 
Contest her claim, of course; but that would involve 
the necessity of employing lawyers, in itself productive 
of no small expense; then there would be the annoy- 
ance inseparable from a stubbornly-litigated case ; and 
then it might reasonably be expected that a cloud 
would be thrown upon the title of the property in con- 
troversy that might seriously impair its market value. 
After a careful consideration of the whole subject, 
therefore. Senator Landon was of the opinion that the 
wisest thing to do was to make a suitable provision for 
the girl and send her back to her friends. In so do- 
ing they might very properly bind her to abandon any 


222 the belle O ’ beckets lane. 

claim whatsoever to the Iredell estate, and thus pre- 
clude the possibility of annoyance or expense in the 
future. He regretted now the part he had taken in 
the girhs behalf, and could only plead in excuse a sin- 
cere* desire to perform what he considered to be a duty 
binding alike upon his conscience and his honor. 

Mrs. Iredell was deeply impressed with the wisdom 
of the senator’s suggestion, and saw the propriety of 
acting upon it at once. She was somewhat astonished, 
it is true, that it had never occurred to him before ; 
but it is not the habit of people to scrutinize closely 
propositions which promise to relieve them from either 
mental anxiety or pecuniary loss, and we never impugn 
the motives of even our bitterest enemy when, in the 
hour of misfortune, he turns to our support. 

The expenditure of a few thousand dollars she be- 
lieved would satisfy Margaret, and thus leave them 
all in undisturbed possession of the estate. Senator 
Landon was therefore authorized to effect a settlement 
upon the best terms he could, with the understanding 
that Mrs. Iredell and her children would make good to 
him whatever he thought it prudent to give. 

Ever since the affair at the river-side, there had been 
a perceptible change in the social atmosphere of the 
Landon house. There was the old sunshine, indeed, 
but no apparent warmth. The senator was more than 
usually polite, but there was in his demeanor an ab- 
sence of cordial heartiness. His good wife, too, was 
radiant with smiles and profuse in complimentary 
words, but these lacked depth and sincerity. It was 
the polished smoothness of artifice, and not the un- 


THE NEGOTIATION. 


223 


studied expression of affection. Margaret was not slow 
to discover that she had suddenly dropped from the 
position of a favorite daughter to that of an unwel- 
come guest. If, however, any doubts oppressed her 
in this regard they were destined to be very quickly 
removed. On the morning succeeding the interview 
with Mrs. Iredell, Senator Landon called the girl 
into the parlor and introduced the subject of that in- 
terview by saying that his great interest in her as the 
daughter of an old friend, had led him, rather hastily, 
perhaps, to the conclusion that she was the legal owner 
of a large estate; but during the past winter he had 
made diligent search for evidence that would establish 
her .claim, and regretted that he was compelled now to 
confess that he had been wholly unsuccessful. He did 
not for a moment doubt that she was an Iredell, but it 
was impossible now to obtain such proof of the fact as 
would be sufficient to induce the courts to disturb a 
judicial settlement which had been acquiesced in for 
many years. He felt, however, that in justice some 
provision should be made for her future support, and 
he was pleased to be able to assure her that Mrs. Ire- 
dell coincided with him in this opinion. Since it had 
become known that she had some shadow of claim to 
a portion of the Iredell estate, a defect in the title of 
the present owners had been suggested which, if not 
cured, would tend to lessen the value of the property. 
In fairness, therefore, to them, and in consideration of 
the allowance they proposed to make, she would be 
aske^ to relinquish all claim whatsoever, so that here- 
after neither they nor their assigns need have any fear 


224 BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

that their titles would be disputed. The case thus 
briefly summarized was presented fully and forcibly by 
Senator Landon, and then reinforced by the assertion 
that he had entered upon the matter originally with the 
sole desire of seeing justice done to her, and now only 
abandoned it when he discovered that the undertaking 
would result in endless annoyance, great expense, and 
probably utter failure. 

Margaret was disappointed, — nay, sick at heart, — not 
over the loss of a fortune, for she had counted little on 
that, but over the intitnation that she was a stranger 
whom it was necessary to bind by a formal contract; 
one whom it was well to deal prudently and carefully 
with; one, in short, who was no longer a beloved 
daughter, near relative, or trusted friend. 

She trembled slightly, and there were tears in her 
eyes, when she answered the senator’s long statement 
by saying,— 

All I know of this matter. Senator Landon, I 
have learned from you ; I shall leave it all to you.” 

Would you give me an idea of what would satisfy 
you? how much money, for instance?” 

She broke down now utterly, but after a little while 
she was able to articulate, brokenly, — 

I am satisfied now. I ask nothing. Senator Lan- 
don, but permission to go to my old home. I — I was 
led to think that something belonged to me of right, 
and that I was in some way in duty bound to assert 
my claim. I find now that I have none, and am sat- 
isfied.” 

But you liave equities, my child, and for the sur- 


THE NEGOTIATION. 


225 


render of these you should have compensation. An 
honest claim may be barred by the statute of limita- 
tions, and, therefore, uncollectable by law, but the 
honest debtor should nevertheless pay it if it be possi- 
ble for him to do so.” 

The cool, business-like way in which he treated her 
began to irritate the girl, and she replied, rather 
angrily, — 

“ If I have any right at all, it must be to a certain 
thing; if that thing is withheld, it must be because 
those who hold it do not wish to act fairly and honestly 
by me.” 

That, I think, is not exactly a correct statement of 
the case.” 

She was angry now. 

“Why should they desire to give me anything? 
Why seek to satisfy me with the smaller, while they 
keep the larger themselves? If just to hold a portion, 
it is just to hold all. My right, if it exists at all, is 
to a whole, not to a fragment.” 

“People ditfer as to what is just; they therefore 
often compromise.” 

“ But there is no need to make any compromise with 
me. I have asked nothing ; I have set up no claim. I 
came here at first with reluctance. Mrs. Iredell need 
make no bargain with me. I shall give her no trouble. 
Senator Landon, will you please send for Mrs. Cran- 
dall ?” 

“ Certainly, if you wish me to do so.” 

When Mrs. Crandall entered the room, Margaret 
said to her, — 

P 


226 the belle 0 ’ BECKETS LANE, 

We had better start for home to-morrow. Senator 
Landon has been very kind to us, and we have been 
delightfully entertained ; but, as we are not to go to 
North Carolina, we should return to our own honie.’^ 

But,’^ interposed the senator, “ there can be no 
occasion for haste.’^ 

think it would be better for us to go at once.” 

But you should allow me, on the score of old friend- 
ship,” the senator said, softly, and by reason of my 
long experience, to tell you that you should settle this 
matter before you go by receiving from Mrs. Iredell a 
handsome allowance. It belongs to you of right, and 
you do injustice to yourself when you refuse it.” 

It is not money that belongs to me,” said the girl, 
rising, and looking at him proudly. “ You tell me I 
have no claim ; then why should I put myself in the 
attitude of a beggar by receiving alms ?” 

^^You look at the matter in the wrong light ; but 
think of it calmly, and we will talk it over again in 
the morning.” 

We shall leave in the morning. Senator Landon,” 
Margaret replied, firmly. Whatever you desire me 
to do must be done to-day.” 

Margaret had grown furious under the bitter disap- 
pointments of the last hour. Mrs. Crandall undertook 
to quiet her, and when she had in the privacy of their 
own rooms finally succeeded in drawing from her the 
substance of the recent interview, she said, cheerfully, — 
‘‘ I think it better to go ; and, to tell you the truth, 
Margaret, I shall, for one, rejoice to get back to Becket’s 
Lane.” 


THE NEGOTIATION. 


227 


So will I/’ replied Margaret. I am sorry we 
ever left. Father Crandall was right in advising us 
not to come ; he is always right.” 

Margaret set to work at once preparing for her de- 
parture. While Mrs. Crandall was gone to the stage- 
office to secure seats in the coach, and ascertain tlie 
hour of leaving, she ransacked her closets, and care- 
fully separating the clothing and presents given to her 
since she came from the few articles brought with her 
from home, she packed the latter in her little trunk, 
and then putting on the plain dress which she had 
worn on the first day of her arrival, — a clumsy, awk- 
ward gown, indeed, — she sat down to think. 

The months spent in Washington had been pleasant 
ones. There could no longer be any doubt that the 
life would have suited her well. Her dreams of the 
South, too, had been agreeable; but the romance was 
ended. It would be perhaps a little mortifying to re- 
turn to Becketts Lane so soon, and make confession that 
all her great expectations had been unfounded; but 
she felt assured that there would be no lack there 
of that thorough heartiness which makes one fully 
welcome and at ease. She could almost see old Don- 
ald praying for their return ; and as for Mr. Becket, 
she did not doubt that he would be rejoiced to see 
her, and to know from her own lips that the trial 
had been made which was to test her heart, and that 
it turned finally to him full of trust and hopeful- 
ness. 

In the evening there was a family gathering in the 
Landon parlor. Mrs. Iredell and Miss Florence called 


228 BELLE O' BECKET’S LANE. 

early, and subsequently Mr. Thomas Iredell dropped 
in. Margaret was sent for ; she entered the room in 
her Bechet’s Lane dress. It was not handsome, Mr. 
Iredell thought, but it mattered little; the girl was, 
and while dresses might be altered or replaced, the face 
and form could not be. She seemed to be a little defi- 
ant in her bearing, but that detracted nothing from her 
beauty, and Mr. Thomas Iredell was pleased to see her 
in a new mood. If she had pitched into his respected 
mother, and given her a good, hearty scolding, he would 
have been wonderfully interested ; he would have been 
willing to wager something, anyway, that Margaret 
could hold her own in any contest of the sort sug- 
gested. He had come there accidentally, and had as 
yet no knowledge of his mother’s purpose, or of what 
had transpired in his mother’s room on the previous 
evening. When Margaret entered the apartment, and 
Mrs. Iredell turned to address her, he suspected that 
the meeting was one of business, and so pretended to 
amuse himself in looking over a collection of engrav- 
ings which occupied one corner of the room. 

Mrs. Iredeir began by saying that she had just heard 
of Margaret’s intention to leave, and could not, after 
their brief but agreeable acquaintaijce, permit her to 
depart without bidding her good-by, and making such 
provision for her future as she deemed proper under 
the circumstances. Senator Landon, she presumed, 
had explained to her how any suit which might be 
instituted after so long a lapse of time, and with in- 
sufficient evidence, could only result in vexation and 
failure to her, and expense to all ; but, to relieve the 


THE NEGOTIATION. 


229 


estate from any shadow, however slight, that might 
fall upon it by reason of her claim, and with an 
earnest desire also to deal justly with one whom she 
still believed to be her niece, she proposed to give her 
twenty thousand dollars, in consideration of her sign- 
ing certain papers which were drawn up and ready for 
her signature. She had been advised, indeed, that 
Margaret^s release was wholly unnecessary, but even 
a lawsuit, however poorly founded, might cost that 
much, and she was willing, therefore, to pay the 
amount named for the sake of avoiding the possi- 
bility of litigation, and pleased, also, to know that 
the money would go into hands so deserving of it. 
She had talked freely with Senator Landon on the 
subject ; he assured her that the sum proposed was a 
generous one, and she hoped that Margaret would take 
the same view of it. 

Margaret listened attentively, but with rising color, 
and when Mrs. Iredell concluded, she said, quietly, — 
It is much too generous.^' 

“I am glad to know that you are satisfied, Mar- 
garet. We may now close the matter without delay 
It is already closed, Mrs. Iredell,’’ she answered, 
firmly. I understand that I have no claim upon 
you. I shall accept nothing as a gratuity.” And 
then, with flashing eyes and quivering voice, she 
added, ^^You are mistaken, madam, if you think 
I came here to enrich myself at your expense. I 
did not.” 

No, no, not that. I know you did not think of 

that, but you were told that you had claims ” 

20 


230 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


Yes/^ said the girl, interrupting her impatiently. 

Senator Landon told me that — that there was certain 
property which belonged to my mother first, and then 
to me as her child ; property which, owing to her ab- 
sence, had for years been occupied by others, — by those, 
perhaps, who would be glad to recognize the poor 
woman’s child, and give her her own. That was what 
I was led to believe; but Mr. Landon now tells me he 
was mistaken ; that my claim is in some way defective, 
barred, perhaps, by time. I am content ; I ask nothing. 
Strangers have generously cared for me thus far, and 
henceforth I hope to be able to care for myself. If I 
can relieve your mind in any way by signing the paper 
referred to, I will do it cheerfully; but I cannot accept 
your offer of money, and shall not. If my claim is un- 
founded, if the property of which I have heard does not 
belong to me, it would be wrong to take your money. 
If it does belong to me, it would be wrong to com- 
promise with those who unjustly withhold it from 
me.” 

The reply came so hotly and so eloquently that it at 
first surprised Mrs. Iredell, and then angered her. She 
was no robber, and she did not, by implication or other- 
wise, desire to be so classed. Without, however, be- 
traying any more feeling than she could help, she looked 
sharply at Margaret, and said, — 

The courts are open to you. Miss Huntly, and you 
may, at your pleasure, test your claim.” 

I understand I have no valid claim, and I certainly 
have no inclination to make you trouble.” 

Then, do I understand that you are willing to re- 


THE NEGOTIATION. 231 

lieve me from the threat of a lawsuit by signing these 
papers 

“ I have made no such threat. If Mr. Landon tells 
me to sign, I shall do it cheerfully. I do not object to 
that — have never objected to it. I simply decline to 
become the object of your charity.’^ 

I regret that Margaret should insist upon declining 
your generous offer, Mrs. Iredell,’’ Senator Landon in- 
terposed ; but I discussed the point with her fully this 
morning, and I find that she adheres to her original 
opinion, so that I shall not press my view of her duty 
any further. I am convinced, however, that she could 
gain nothing by setting up any claim to the Iredell es- 
tate, and therefore advise her to sign the papers.” 

^^Very well,” Margaret responded. ^‘I will do 
so.” 

Shall I send fora notary?” Senator Landon asked, 
addressing Mrs. Iredell. His seal will be necessary 
to give the document any validity in law.” 

“ Certainly,” said Mrs. Iredell. 

A notary’s office was just across the street, and the 
notary himself appeared without unnecessary delay; 
so promptly, in fact, that it is more than probable he 
had been notified to be in readiness. 

You understand the character of the instrument 
you are about to sign ?” he said to Margaret, as she 
took up the pen, and leaned over the table on which 
the document lay. 

I think I do.” 

Then affix your signature opposite that seal.” 

The girl had written Margaret,” when Mr. Thomas 


232 


THE BELLE O' BECHETS LANE. 


Iredell, who had thus far been an interested but silent 
spectator of the scene, approached, and leaning over 
her shoulder, took the pen from her hand. 

Pardon me,^^ he said, you should always know 
exactly what an instrument contains before subscribing 
your name to it. This may be a marriage contract.” 

“No, no; I am quite sure it is not that, Mr. 
Iredell.” 

“ Well, well, let us have it read. Mr. Notary, will 
you favor us ?” 

The notary took the paper, and began to read. It 
was a long document, a surrender of all right and title 
to houses, lots, and lands in various cities, towns, and 
counties of North Carolina, and to all personal property 
as well, which Mr. Thomas Iredell, the grandfather of 
Margaret, left at his decease. When he finally con- 
cluded the reading, Iredell turned to Margaret, and 
asked, — 

“ Are you still willing to sign it ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ W ell, I am not willing you should. It is a bare- 
faced attempt at robbery.” The young man snatched 
the document from the hands of the notary, and turning 
in wrathful indignation upon Senator Landon, said, “I 
have a larger interest in this than you, and I protest 
against it.” 

“ But your mother has offered the young lady a lib- 
eral compensation,” said Landon, apologetically. 

“ I object to the payment of a farthing, and I say 
further that Miss Huntly shall not sign this paper. 
You know, and I know. Senator Landon, for the facts 


THE NEGOTIATION. 


233 


have been discussed between us, that Margaret’s claim 
is an honest one, and if presented must be recognked 
by the courts.” 

Mr. Iredell,” replied the senator, with an affectation 
of great courtesy, I trust you will not forget that you 
are in my house, and that your language and bearing 
should, at least, be respectful.” 

Thank you, sir ; I shall not forget it. But, with 
your leave, I shall burn this paper.” Without wait- 
ing, however, for the consent of any one, he deposited 
the document in the grate, and then turning to Mar- 
garet, said, Your claim to one-half of your grand- 
father’s estate is an honest one, and will be recognized 
as such.” 

“ Thomas, you are beside yourself,” exclaimed the 
mother. 

I am not. Come, mother, shall I accompany you 
to your hotel ?” 

When Iredell, his mother, and sister were walking 
home, the son said, — 

Who prompted you to do this, mother ?” 

Senator Landon thought it for the best.” 

Do you know why ?” 

Because he considered it just to the girl and a 
relief to us.” 

“ Not at all. He had no care for us. He expected 
to marry his son Dick to Margaret, and then dispossess 
us for the benefit of his own family ; but his game was 
checkmated a few days ago.” 

-How?” 

By Miss Huntly’s rejection of Kichard.” 

20 * 


234 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


Ah ! She has accepted you. Why did you not 
tell me that.” 

No, no, she has rejected me also ; but I will not 
take my revenge in this way. Why should we seek to 
defraud the girl? We shall have enough and to spare 
after we have been just to her.” 

It is not of myself I am thinking, Thomas.” 

I know that, mother, — I know that.” 

Well, well. Settle it in your own way, my son.” 

The next morning Florence was made the bearer of 
a cordial note from Mrs. Iredell, inviting Margaret and 
Mrs. Crandall to accompany them to North Carolina. 
But the morning in Washington means any hour be- 
tween seven and twelve o’clock, and upon her arrival 
at Senator Landon’s house she found that the ladies of 
Becket’s Lane had taken the five o’clock coach, and 
were now probably many miles on their homeward 
journey. 


CHAPTEE XXYI. 

“ye maun bear thae burthen bravely.” 

The winter months at Eockboro’ had not been void 
of excitement. Not far away lay the Canada border ; on 
a clear day it could be seen from the dome of the Nar- 
rowpoint light. For a year or more the people of the 
Canadian provinces had been discontented and turbu- 
lent. There were numerous indications of a popular 


MAUN BEAR THAE BURTHEN.” 235 

uprising. Mobs had more than once come into collision 
with the authorities, recourse was had to the military, 
and the woundings and deaths which ensued were 
claimed by the malcontents as sacrifices to the cause of 
human liberty. These casualties were ingeniously 
dwelt upon and magnified by the colonial agitators and 
their sympathizers elsewhere with a view to develop 
still greater dissensions at home, and precipitate, if pos- 
sible, an armed invasion from the United States. 

The people of the latter country, still imbued with 
the prejudices engendered by the war of the revolution 
and that of 1812, were honestly convinced that every 
blow struck for Canadian independence was a blow 
against despotism and in favor of civil liberty. The 
newspapers of the border States were overflowing with 
indignant recitals of British tyranny. The real or im- 
aginary sufferings and grievances of the Canadians were 
eloquently and touchingly presented. Solemn appeals 
were made to the young men of the States to rally and 
do battle for their neighbors, friends, and relatives 
across the border,*who were now struggling as we had 
struggled, for the right of self-government. Lafayette, 
Steuben, De Kalb, and Kosciusko had generously come 
to our assistance in that old contest, and should not we 
now follow their illustrious example ? Could a good 
man find a better cause in which to fight, or a brave 
man a better opportunity to achieve distinction ? The 
great mass of Americans had neither the time nor the 
opportunity to investigate the questions involved in the 
Canadian controversy ; perhaps it may be said truthfully, 
also, that they had not the inclination to do so. The 


236 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET’S LANE. 


air was full of prejudice and passion, and the hour 
not favorable to sober thought and patient analysis. 
Honest men — in the sense these words are ordinarily used 
— may be deceived by noisy declamation and ingenious 
falsehood. In great affairs eternal and immutable 
justice always sanctifies our banner, whether it be on 
this side or on that ; and in war, especially, we must 
first ascertain under what colors our friends fight be- 
fore we can decide infallibly which party is in the right. 
Public opinion is usually — -perhaps we should say in- 
variably — on the side of the successful; but public 
opinion, by the way, is oftener wrong than right. It 
is, however, — like fools and children, — honest. It 
always means well, but seldom does well; and ninety- 
nine times out of every hundred it will be found buzz- 
ing on the street corners, pointing the index-finger in 
the wrong direction. 

At no place, probably, outside of Canada itself was 
there more excitement over the Canadian revolt than 
in Rockborok Men were dropping in to the village 
from distant places in the interior; mysterious con- 
sultations were being held ; supplies, consisting of food, 
clothing, and arms, were arriving from the adjacent 
counties. Grave rumors of battles fought and to be 
fought were on every tongue. From the upper win- 
dows of the Rockboro’ hotel, with the aid of a glass, 
one could see off to the northeast a shadowy tongue of 
land running far out into the lake. This was Point- 
au-P^l4, a strip of wooded ground over which England 
claimed jurisdiction. Between this point and Rock- 
boro’, there was, in the latter part of the winter of 183- 


“FE MAUN BEAR THAE BURTHEN:^ 237 

a solid field of ice. It is not my purpose to give the 
details of that episode in American history known as 
the Patriot War. It is enough to say that many 
Americans engaged in it from as good motives as ever 
prompted men to seek a battle, while others were doubt- 
less drawn to it by the love of adventure or that fas- 
cination which the immediate presence of danger always 
exerts over resolute liearts. 

The early winter had been very dull to old Tom 
Becket. The hours, in Margaret’s absence, seemed to 
stand still, the days were centuries, and the months 
endless. He did not write to her; he proposed to 
leave her absolutely alone. He did not doubt that amid 
the gayety of her new home she would cease to think 
of lum. He could not find it in his heart to blame 
her if she did ; for what was he, indeed, but a reminder 
of wasted opportunities, one who had frittered away 
the best years of his life, — nay, worse than this, one 
who had abandoned the habits of a gentleman and 
adopted in their stead those more befitting a brute than 
a man. The future presented to his thoughts but little 
encouragement. The present was unendurable. He 
would not relapse into his former disgraceful habits, 
for so long as there was the remotest possibility of 
Margaret’s return he would do nothing to render him- 
self more unworthy of her than he was. He tried for 
a time to become interested in his books, but the effort 
was futile ; they afforded him no enjoyment. So that 
finally from a sheer desire for change, accompanied 
doubtless in his case with an earnest belief in the 
righteousness of the cause in which he proposed to 


238 the belle O' BECHETS LANE. 

engage, he joined the little expedition which started 
from Rockboro’ over the frozen lake for the Canada 
border. It was at best but a company of raw militia, 
destitute of discipline and utterly ignorant of all sol- 
dierly movements, but its operations were to form a 
part of a grand movement upon the Canada line, ex- 
tending from Michigan to Vermont. Each of the 
widely-separated detachments of the invading army, 
it was expected, would serve as a nucleus about 
which the disaffected Canadians might gather, and 
then move forward and rid the provinces of their 
oppressors. 

Unfortunately for the Rockboro’ company, the 
Canadian authorities, having timely information of 
its approach, had despatched a detachment of the 
Thirty-second Regiment British Regulars to meet it. 
The Americans, not loth to vindicate their mettle, met 
them boldly, and the courage displayed in the en- 
gagement which ensued was most creditable to both 
})arties. Of the British troops nearly fifty fell, killed 
or wounded, on the field. The patriots, as they were 
called, suffered less severely, but finding that their 
ammunition was exhausted, and concluding that the 
British troops would be speedily reinforced, they re- 
tired hastily from the field, leaving Becket and a few 
others in the hands of the enemy. Whether Becket 
was dead or wounded his escaping comrades could 
not tell. They only knew that during the excitement 
of the battle he appeared utterly oblivious to all 
sense of personal danger, and behaved with the utmost 
intrepidity. 


MAUN BEAR THAE BURTHEN’’ 239 

The affair was, in fact, that of a mob pitted against 
disciplined troops, and the residt was that which almost 
invariably follows such encounters. 

This little battle occurred on the 2d of March. 
Margaret and Mrs. Crandall reached Eockboro’ in the 
latter part of April. Up to this time no information 
had been obtained of the fate of Becket, save that 
brought by his returning comrades. Few, if any, 
however, doubted that he had either fallen dead on the 
field or subsequently died of his wounds and the ex- 
posure incident to so inclement a season of the year. 
When old Donald met his wife and adopted daughter 
at the landing, on the day of their return, his eyes 
filled with tears, and his voice grew tremulous, as he 
explained briefly how a great misfortune had befallen 
them during their absence, the knowledge of which 
he had thus far withheld because he had not the heart 
to throw a cloud upon them when so far away, and, fur- 
thermore, because he hoped almost against hope that 
Mr. Becket, though wounded, was still living, and 
would yet be heard from. But the Becket sisters, who 
met Margaret on the wharf in sable suits, and with 
tearful eyes and quivering tones bade her welcome 
home, dispelled from her heart whatever ray of hope 
Donald’s words had left in it, and the crushed girl was 
led sobbing and blinded from the boat to the rough 
farm-wagon which old Donald had brought to convey 
her and his wife to Becket’s Lane. As they turned 
from the highway at Becket’s house, she found voice 
to exclaim, between her sobs, — 

“ What will become of us !” 


240 BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

Mrs. Crandall, putting an arm about her, replied, 
tenderly, — 

God will take care of us, my child.” 

Oh,” cried the girl, bitterly, but somewhat irrele- 
vantly, I was not thinking of myself ; it was of him !” 

Tlien old Donald turned to her and said, in solemn 
tones, — 

Ye maun bear thae burthen bravely, my bairn, 
trustin’ alwa’ that they wha sow i’ tears shall reap i’ 
joy.” 

At the request of the Becket sisters Donald continued 
in charge of the farm, and soon after the return of his 
wife and adopted daughter he abandoned number six, 
and took possession of the homestead. Margaret’s old 
friends and acquaintances called on her from time to 
time, but finding her clothed in the homely apparel of 
former years, and greatly depressed, they very naturally 
took leave of her with the conviction that the North 
Carolina inheritance, like so many other fortunes which 
are heard of but not seen, had turned out to be a myth, 
and that the poor girl had returned to her old home 
utterly disappointed and broken in spirit. This conclu- 
sion, though unfounded, had a tendency to soften their 
hearts towards her, and there were few indeed, if any, 
who did not recur to their quiet interviews with the sad- 
dened girl with a feeling of kindly interest and sym- 
pathy. It was impossible for Margaret to avoid the 
reflection that Mr. Becket would be alive and well if the 
Landons had never crossed her path ; to their iiitc'r'er- 
ence in her affairs she attributed the great mhfortmie 
which overshadowed her. She spoke, therefore, hesi- 


YE MAUN BEAR THAE BURTHEN.^’ 241 


tatingly of her visit to Washington, and seldom men- 
tioned the names of those by whom she had been en- 
tertained. It was upon the whole a topic that suggested 
disagreeable memories aside from the grave one referred 
to, and it was for this reason, also, a subject to which 
she was specially disinclined to allude. In her own 
quiet communings, which took place in her solitary 
rambles over the farm, she regretted most bitterly that 
she had permitted herself to be dissuaded from follow- 
ing the promptings of her own heart. It was true she 
had yielded at the earnest solicitation of Mr. Becket, 
but this fact now afforded her but little consolation. It 
was his consideration for her, his great and unselfish 
affection which rendered him so forgetful of himself 
and so solicitous for her, and she felt now that she 
should have met a loving self-denial like his with an 
obstinacy that would brook no restraint, and admit of no 
questionings. Instead of consenting to enter upon an 
ordeal so unnecessary, and from which she knew abso- 
lutely that she would return unchanged, she should 
have answered, “ No ; I am contented and happy here. 
I will not go. You cannot drive me from you.’^ Hav- 
ing found one true heart, it was most unwise to hazard 
it in order to satisfy herself that other hearts were 
false. 

Morden, one of Becket’s comrades, had tunnelled 
out of prison, and with the active assistance of those 
on the outside who secretly sympathized with the un- 
fortunate enterprise in which he had been engaged, 
succeeded in making his escape. He stopped at the 
Becket homestead over night, and told the story of his 


242 BELLE O' BECKETS LANE. 

adventures. But of Becket he could nothing, save 
that he had fought with the courage of desperation, 
and fallen on the field either killed or wounded. 
Morden himself had been captured some distance from 
the scene of the battle, and hence had had no opportunity 
of ascertaining the fate of his comrade; but he did not 
for a moment doubt that he had died like a true knight 
fighting for liberty and justice, and that the provinces, 
when finally delivered from their thraldom, would erect 
monuments to heroes like Becket who laid down their 
lives for Canadian independence. Morden, although 
an enthusiast and an inveterate hater of England, was 
withal a brave and generous man. 

The dull monotony of the daily life of the occupants 
of the Becket farm was, during the spring and summer, 
only broken once a week, when old Donald brought 
the cumbrous farm-wagon round to the front gate on 
Sabbath-days to convey his good wife and Margaret 
to church. Busy people, as a rule, find little time to 
nurse their sorrows, and the duties and cares of an 
active and industrious life seldom permit the mind to 
brood continuously over lost fortunes or blasted hopes. 
By the time, therefore, that the harvesting was ended, 
and the products of the soil safely housed, the family had 
become comparatively reconciled to their altered situa- 
tion, and began to converse again in more cheerful tones. 
Occasionally a smile would light up Margaret’s hand- 
some face, to the inexpressible delight of old Donald, 
for it would remind him of that better period not very 
long gone, indeed, when their circle was unbroken, and 
they dreamed of no other wealth or happiness save 


MAUN BEAR THAE BURTHEN.” 243 

that which loving and contented hearts atforded. He 
had felt in that former time that even the thought 
or wish to change the gentle current of their lives 
from the lines to which they had been allotted, was 
in some way a reflection upon the wisdom of divine 
providence ; and he did not doubt now that the sore 
affliction visited upon them through Becket’s death was 
a punishment for their presumption in questioning the 
goodness of God by seeking a lot in life other than 
that to which He had assigned them. It may, indeed, 
be true that old Donald, like the men of Athens, was 
altogether too superstitious, but the hand of the Su- 
preme Ruler of the Universe was, he believed, ever 
very near to him, and his line of duty that path which 
led from the threshold of his own cabin. The highest 
wealth of the world of which he had any conception 
consisted in an honest heart and contented mind. The 
flowers of the field were to him an earnest of the radi- 
ant beauty and sweetness of the world to come. He 
saw in the frost-touched leaves of autumn a suggestion 
of that subdued and tender loveliness which the chas- 
tenings of God give to the human soul. Pure in 
thought, manly in act, he was ever ready to give cheer- 
ful and vigorous battle to the troubles which beset him 
roundabout, and he never for a moment doubled that 
by the help of heaven he would win the victory. If 
dark to-day, he rested confidently in the belief that it 
would be bright to-morrow. With this hopeful philos- 
ophy ringing in her ears, and this example of cheerful 
resignation to the divine will ever before her eyes, 
Margaret grew more and more cheery and contented. 


244 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETTS LANE. 


Time, that slow but sure physician for the sick at heart, 
administered his curatives with wonted skill ; and be- 
fore the autumn foliage had lost its glory the girl 
could think of her friend and lover, not in the bitter- 
ness of despair as one thinks of the dead, but with a 
feeling of mingled sadness, tenderness, and joy, as one 
recurs to a dearly-beloved friend, forever to be absent, 
maybe, as time is measured here, but, as we fondly 
trust, forever happy as time is measured in the world 
beyond. 

Our old and much-esteemed acquaintance, Mr. Mark 
Jettings, had not forgotten Margaret. When he heard 
of her return, and of her deep melancholy, he very 
wisely concluded that she was mourning over the grave 
mistake committed in the previous autumn, when he 
had so generously proffered her his hand and heart, and 
she so promptly and unwisely declined both. It is 
more than probable that deep down in Mr. Jettings’s 
soul he had never fully forgiven her for the manner 
in which she rejected him. It was altogether too plain 
and prompt to be at all flattering to his vanity. If 
she had said, I confess I love you better than any 
man on earth, but — but, dear Mark, I am not worthy 
of you, and will not consent to make you unhappy,” 
he could have looked back to the interview under the 
shell-bark hickory with some degree of satisfaction. 
But she did not put it so mildly. In truth, she could 
not have been more abrupt and emphatic in her refusal 
if the proposal had been made by a detestable scrub 
like the prevaricating Fenwick, dod-rabbit him. He 


CENTRE CHURCH. 


245 


certainly did not for a moment doubt that Margaret’s 
depression was occasioned by the discovery that she 
had made a grave mistake in rejecting him; but just 
what he would do under the circumstances he could 
not as yet fully decide. It might be, he thought, just 
as well for the present to keep her in an agony of 
suspense as to his intentions. 


CHAPTER XXyil. 

CENTRE CHURCH. 

It was a bright October Sabbath morning; a heavy 
frost had fallen during the night, and was sparkling on 
blade and leaf ; long shadows lay westward of tree and 
copse, and mingled in pleasant contrast with the sun- 
light which fell brightly on the more open spaces of 
the half-wooded and half-meadow fields of the farm. 
The wild-plum, thorn, and sumac were blazing in fiery 
beauty amid the brown-leaved hazel which studded the 
ground between the Becket homestead and the marsh- 
fields. Looking above these, the eye caught glimpses 
of the inlet smooth and silvery; while still farther out, 
beyond a low, narrow slip of pale-yellow sand, could be 
seen the glistening billows of the lake, whose waters, 
even in the calmest season, roll shoreward as if never 
content to be wholly quiet and restful. 

Mrs. Crandall and Margaret, gloved and bonneted, 
21 * 


246 BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 

with their wraps hanging over their arms, were leisurely 
walking to and fro on the gravelled path which led from 
the house to the roadside. Old Donald was coming 
down the lane with the farm-wagon, his sleek, well- 
fed horses on a slow trot, the highest speed to which 
he ever urged them. 

They were going to church. Some five miles south 
of the Becket farm there was a large and thriving set- 
tlement of New England people. Here a church edi- 
fice had been erected at an early day, a pastor installed, 
and the work of evangelization thoroughly organized. 
The membership consisted almost wholly of farmers 
and their families, and the congregation was the largest 
within the limits of the county. It was not at all un- 
usual to find the church building so crowded that many 
were unable to obtain admission, and on such occasions, 
when the weather would admit, the windows and doors 
were thrown open, so that those who chose to do so could 
sit in their wagons on the outside and join in the devo- 
tional exercises within. Those who attended the morn- 
ing service often came provided with a lunch, so that 
they might remain for the evening meeting, and in the 
interim enjoy a quiet reunion with their neighbors and 
friends, and thus gather up the local news and gossip 
of the preceding week. 

As Donald drove leisurely southward they found 
many others travelling in the same direction on foot, 
horseback, and in wagons. Stopping for a moment at 
the residence of Captain Fithian, Miss Sallie, in ac- 
cordance with an arrangement made on the evening 
previous, joined them, and the two girls, with their 


CENTRE CHURCH. 


247 


feet nestling in the straw, and their cheeks burnished 
by the bracing atmosphere of an autumn morning, 
chatted together pleasantly -as they jolted along over 
the uneven road, while old Donald and his wife, 
more reticent than they, were, probably, none the less 
thoughtful. 

Arriving at the corners where the church was located, 
Donald assisted the women to alight, and then sought a 
place among the many vehicles which had preceded him 
to fasten his horses securely, and provide them with a 
sheaf of oats or wisp of hay so that they would stand 
contentedly while he should be absent from them. 

Margare^and Sallie, separating from Mrs. Crandall 
for the time, soon became the centre of a little group 
of old schoolmates, of whom the more prominent were 
Mr. Washington Angle and Miss Alvirah Carr, the for- 
mer as gallant as ever, and the latter no whit less comely 
than when the reader first met her. 

The day was so delightful that Mr. Jettings had 
sought the loan of Mr. Boshockle’s horse and carriage, 
and, accompanied by Mr. Boshockle’s daughter, driven 
out from the village. This young woman, although 
not handsome, possessed all the accomplishments and 
polish of a village-bred lady. While somewhat aus- 
tere and formal in her manners, and a little too precise 
in her conversation, she was, nevertheless, sensible, in- 
telligent, and, to those who knew her intimately, very 
agreeable. Margaret and Sallie had met her before, 
and were pleased to meet her again. She knew Mr. 
Jettings very much better than Mr. Jettings knew 
himself. He had in some way become conscious of 


248 the belle o’ beckevs lane. 

this fact, and was, therefore, extremely reticent in her 
presence. Indeed, he would as soon have thought of 
proposing marriage to his own aunt as to Miss Kate 
Boshockle, and his aunt would have been quite as 
likely to have accepted him. Still, the fact that he 
knew her and became her escort occasionally, did not, 
as he was well aware, lower him at all in public esti- 
mation. On the contrary, it suggested an intimacy of 
which he had good reason to be proud. 

It was too early by a half-hour for the morning ser- 
vice, and, the sun shining warmly on the outside, the 
larger portion of the congregation, instead of entering 
the church, formed into little groups on the lawn, in- 
terchanged neighborly greetings, and made inquiries 
for absent friends. The bright, laughing faces of the 
young, and the hearty, jovial bearing of the old, sug- 
gested a holiday festival rather than a gathering for 
religious worship. It was the only opportunity they 
had had since the preceding Sabbath to give play to 
their social instincts, or to discuss questions of local 
or general interest. To the young it was a picnic, to 
the elder ladies a high lea, and to the men a club- 
meeting. Acquaintances were often formed here which 
culminated in marriage, meetings suggested that led to 
business transactions elsewhere, and the initiatory steps 
taken to control the political action of the county ; so 
that Centre Church was the rendezvous of politicians, 
the resort of gossips, the trysting-place of lovers, and 
the shrine of religious devotees. 

As the time approached for the services to begin, old 
Donald, followed by his wife, Margaret, and Miss 


CENTRE CHURCH. 


249 


Sallie, entered the church, and going forward to within 
a few benches of the pulpit, seated himself on the left 
of the aisle among the men, while his good wife and 
the young ladies found places on the opposite side among 
the women. Whether the rules of the denomination 
worshipping at Centre Church required this separation 
of the sexes or not, I do not know, but it is absolutely 
certain that an imperious custom of the locality did in- 
sist upon it, and that any disregard of this would have 
been considered bold behavior on the part of a man, 
and almost, if not quite, indecent on the part of a 
woman. The reader can, therefore, imagine the aston- 
ishment which prevailed when, just as the minister was 
in the act of reading the first hymn, a gentleman and 
lady, richly and elegantly dressed, in a style foreign to 
any yet seen even in Rockboro’, entered the house, and 
walking leisurely up the aisle, dropped side by side into 
the first unoccupied seat they came to, and sat there 
very contentedly together as if they had done the most 
proper and natural thing in life. The gentleman was 
young, tall, and well proportioned, and bore himself 
with an air of quiet self-possession which suggested to 
those about him that he at least thought he knew ex- 
actly what to do and how to do it. The lady, although 
small and dark, was exceedingly handsome, and ap- 
peared neither shamefaced nor embarrassed. For a 
moment after taking her seat her large dark eyes peered 
searchingly about as if in quest of some one she was 
eager to find. What a saucy yet becoming hat she 
wore ! What delicate hands, and how neatly gloved ! 
How superb the dress ! Are those things blazing be- 


250 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


low her ears diamonds — real, genuine diamonds? The 
young people gathered in that country church had seen 
but little of the world. They had been reared in cabins. 
Their clothes were made of coarse material, spun, woven, 
colored and cut in the neighborhood, and often in their 
own homes. They had, therefore, no conception of 
the vast sums expended by the wealthy for personal 
adornment. They had, however, their own ideas of 
elegance in dress, and none had ever seen these sur- 
passed in reality before. Who were these people, any- 
way, who had so unexpectedly dropped down among 
them from an unknown world, and yet appeared to be 
so much at home in this ? 

The audience stood up while singing a tender, touch- 
ingly tender old church hymn, and two voices, a soprano 
and an alto, rising clear and rich above all others, led 
the congregation. The soprano, recognizing something 
familiar to her ear in the tones of the alto, peered in- 
quisitively around, and thereupon a smile lighted up 
the strange lady’s countenance, and she sang on even 
better than before; but Margaret Huntly’s face flushed 
to the color of a red rose, her voice trembled, drooped, 
and for a little time was not heard at all. Mr. Jettings 
observed all this, and when the singing ended, and the 
congregation kneeled for prayer, his thoughts were busy 
endeavoring to solve the mystery of the quick glances 
of recognition which had flashed between Margaret and 
the strangers. It was, however, the hour for prayer, and 
he prayed, in a somewhat desultory fashion, — ^^Lord, 
have I been sinning away my day of grace; sj>ending 
the summer in idleness when the sun was shining, and 


CENTRE CHURCH. 


251 


I should have been making hay ? Has rumor, that 
arch deceiver, induced me to neglect the golden oppor- 
tunity? Is Margaret really rich and well connected, 
and yet has she been permitted to mourn for a whole 
season over the fact that she once rejected me ? Good 
men should be forgiving. Young girls, poor sinners, 
cannot be expected always to know what is for the best. 
Possibly she had never thought of marriage, and the 
proposition coming suddenly staggered her intellect, 
and betrayed her into a mistake which she has ever 
since most sorely repented of. Lord, let us give the 
poor girl another chance — one more. She is anxious 
to atone for her error. She is miserable now ; she has 
sorrowed long ; let us forgive her, and thus fill her heart 
with joy. Amen 

This prayer was not such a one, to be sure, as men 
utter when standing in synagogues and on street cor- 
ners, but very similar to petitions offered up in secret. 
That higher power is then appealed to as if He were a 
confederate in business or in crime, and asked in a con- 
fidential way, not for better thoughts and intentions, 
purer motives and cleaner hands, but for the approval 
of questionable acts, aid in the furtherance of personal 
schemes, and help to extricate the suppliant from diffi- 
culties in which he has become involved by reason of 
his own folly, his own selfishness, or his own down- 
right dishonesty. Prayers that we would be ashamed 
to present to an intelligent and respectable man, we do 
not hesitate to proffer to an omniscient and immaculate 
Creator. And so, whether doing right or wrong, we 
are ever ready to exclaim, God help us.’’ Indeed, we 


252 the belle o' beckets lane. 

need His help, but seldom in the way we most desire it. 
The truth intended to be enforced by this brief homily 
is that Mr. Jettings’s prayer was rather better than a fair 
average. He rose from his knees and resumed his seat 
wdth that feeling of satisfaction which one experiences 
when assured that his scheme has the approval of the 
senior member of the firm, and must, therefore, neces- 
sarily be successful. 

The preacher was not a scholarly man; his early 
years had been passed on the farm amid the privations 
and hardships incident to pioneer life. He had no 
original views of religious duty to present ; his style 
was inelegant, his diction imperfect, but he was minis- 
tering to a plain, practical people, with whose tempta- 
tions, inclinations, and habits he was perfectly familiar. 
Possessing what a collegiate education cannot give, a 
rich, sympathetic voice, and the power and tact to be 
forcible, apposite, and eloquent, he secured attention 
from the first, held it to the last, and found his way 
readily to the hearts of his hearers. 

The two strangers, disposed in the beginning appar- 
ently to regard the rough pastor with good-natured in- 
dulgence, as they would a blundering school-boy who was 
about to deliver his first oration, soon became interested 
in him, then forgetful of themselves, arid finally, when 
in conclusion he with simple pathos contrasted the love 
of man, which may perchance prompt him to die for a 
friend, with the love of God, which could induce him 
to suffer death for an enemy, and amid the terrible 
agony of crucifixion pray, Father, forgive them,’’ 
they awoke as from a dream, with tears streaming from 


CENTRE CHURCH. 253 

their eyes, and their hearts touched as they had never 
been touched before. 

There may be more learned and more accomplished 
men in the pulpit now, but there are none more elo- 
quent and effective than those sturdy gospellers of that 
early day, who, with the grand courage of the Knights 
Templar of the olden time, traversed in summer and 
winter uninhabited and almost pathless forests to preach 
Christ and Him crucified. They were stout of body, 
of brain, and of heart, and their utterances were mar- 
vellously impregnated with the power and sublimity of 
the wilderness which encompassed them. Their pre- 
sentation of the judgment day combined all the terrors 
of darkness, storm, flood, and fire ; their descriptions 
of the grace, the love, the tenderness, the long-suffering, 
the yearnings of God for the human soul, sounded on 
the ear like the strains of an ^olian harp, accompa- 
nied by a song of invitation, in which one recognized 
the plaintive, pleading melody of angels. We have 
polished discourses now read from polished desks by 
reverend gentlemen whose accent and manner are un- 
exceptionable. We throw our silver in the basket 
when the stewards come round, doze comfortably in our 
cushioned pews, wake up in time for the benediction, 
stretch ourselves, and go home without remembering a 
word the good man said. The shaft falls short, or, if it 
strikes at all, it is so soft and blunt that it drops at our 
feet harmless. Then the blows came like the spear- 
thrusts of King Arthur’s knights, and somebody was 
certain to be unhorsed and have his armor pierced 
through and through. 


22 


254 


THE BELLE O' BECHET'S LANE. 


In fact, I fear in these latter days we refine too 
much, and do not make either our carnal or spiritual 
weapons sturdy enough to perform the work nature 
demands of us. We have become very learned and 
pretty, indeed, but are we not losing the manly pluck 
to call tilings by their right names, and do effectively 
the rougher work of life? Are we not going into 
battle armed with a bodkin instead of the old Scottish 
claymore? I regret exceedingly that our friend and 
counsellor, Mr. Jettings, is not present to-day to give 
us the benefit of his superior wisdom on this important 
subject ; but as he is not, and as this topic is but an 
episode, we must go back nearly fifty years to him and 
to the people who are pouring out of Centre Church 
and gathering in groups for conversation in the pleasant 
sunshine of the lawn and roadside. 


/ 


CHAPTER XXyill. 

THE HAZEL THICKET. 

The strangers, preceding Margaret from the church, 
now stood on the lawn near the doorway to await her 
coming. The congregation, on making their exit, re- 
garded them inquisitively, as if eager to know who 
they were, where they came from, and why they were 
there. Reaching the open air, many of these gathered 
in little knots and engaged in conversation, while others 


THE HAZEL THICKET. 


255 


loitered idly about, with the desire of making some 
inquiry suggested by the incidents of the day, meet- 
ing friends with whom they desired to speak; or, finding 
the transition from the shadow and constraint of the 
church to the sunshine and freedom of the lawn very 
agreeable to their feelings, they were disposed to linger 
and enjoy themselves to the utmost. Making her way 
along the crowded aisle as rapidly as possible, Margaret 
finally appeared at the doorway, where the strangers met 
and welcomed her with every manifestation of delight. 
The young lady put her arms about Margaret’s neck 
and kissed her ; the young gentleman looked as if very 
much inclined to follow this example, but all he did 
do, in fact, was to shake the hand of the blushing girl 
cordially, and say, — 

You see we were determined to hunt you down at 
once. Cousin Margaret. We called at Mr. Crandall’s, 
and then followed you up.” 

‘^ Father,” said Margaret, turning to old Donald, 
^^this is Mr. Thomas Iredell, and this his sister, Miss 
Florence.” 

We gie ye hearty welcome; Margaret’s frien’s are 
a’ our frien’s. Ye wull gang hame wi’ us, Mr. Ire- 
dell.” 

Mrs. Crandall, joining them now, greeted the strangers 
heartily, and cordially enforced the invitation of the 
husband. And so it was arranged that Margaret and 
Miss Fithian should return in Mr. Iredell’s carriage to 
the Becket homestead at their leisure, while Donald and 
his wife would drive there at once and be in readiness 
to receive them. 


256 BELLE O' BECKET'S LANE. 

It was not, as has been already suggested, the habit 
of the people who attended Centre Church to depart 
hurriedly after tlie services were over. During the 
half-hour in which Mr. Thomas Iredell and his sister 
Florence remained they were introduced to scores of 
Margaret’s acquaintances, and by their pleasant words 
and gentle bearing won hosts of good opinions for 
themselves. The American farmer is very independent 
in disposition, and will not tolerate any affectation of 
superiority on the ])art of others, but it always affords 
him great satisfaction to be met on terms of perfect 
equality by those possessing w’ealth, social distinction, 
or high official station. His theory is that all men are 
equal, and any indication of exclusiveness, or of a dis- 
belief in the common brotherhood of mankind, Avill 
anger him in an instant, and elicit his bitterest invec- 
tives; but, on the other hand, the distinguished states- 
man, soldier, or divine, who greets him cordially, and 
treats him with that respectful consideration due to a 
friend, may ever afterward be quite sure that he will 
be remembered with sentiments of kindness and good 
will. Mr. Thomas Iredell was not either a statesman, 
soldier, or divine, but he was evidently a gentleman of 
wealth, tact, good breeding, and high social position, 
and a good-looking young man withal, and he there- 
fore won his way very readily to the hearts of all ; 
while his sister was so polite and attentive to those who 
were presented to her that even the fastidious Mr. Jet- 
tings became unsettled in mind, and began inwardly to 
discuss the question whether it would not be better, 
after all, to throw Margaret overboard and seek to 


THE HAZEL THICKET. 


257 


form an alliance with her better-dressed and evidently 
wealthier cousin. 

These, then, were some of Margaret’s North Caro- 
lina friends. It was obvious, notwithstanding all 
rumor had said to the contrary, that they had not 
abandoned her ; nay, that they were even proud of her. 
Washington Angle, honest fellow, standing, as he did 
to-day, within short range of the lovely Alvirah’s bat- 
tery of charms, felt in the innermost recesses of liis heart 
that they had good reason, indeed, to plume themselves 
on their relationship to the young lady of Bechet’s 
Lane. In truth, Washington’s eyes never fell on Mar- 
garet that his thoughts did not wander temporarily 
from the true objective, and it may be that a suspicion 
of this fact had at some time entered like iron into 
Miss Alvirah’s soul, and thus rendered it impossible 
for her to accord to her old schoolmate the fair api)re- 
ciation which, under other circumstances, would have 
been freely and gladly given. 

There were many things in Margaret’s more recent 
history which the good people who knew her were 
unable to explain to their own satisfaction. Why had 
she returned from her long journey as poor apparently 
as when she set out, and manifestly so much less happy ? 
If there had been a fortune awaiting her she would 
certainly have brought back substantial tokens of it. 
If there had been good friends and near relatives, why 
did she not remain with them, and why since coming 
back had she been so retired, subdued, and sorrowful? 
Mr. Jettings’s fertile intellect had enabled him within 
the last twenty minutes to answer some of these queries 


258 the belle O’ beckets lane. 

to an attentive group of listeners. Fortunes, he said, 
could not be recovered in a day, — the larger they were 
the more obstinately would they be defended. -During 
the time consumed in litigation Miss Huntly might 
with propriety visit her friends, and receive visits from 
them in return ; but she could not so far sacrifice her 
independence of character — that is to say, her self- 
respect — as to become for even an hour a dependent upon 
their bounty. As to her melancholy, that sprung from 
quite a different source, and one the nature of which 
he understood perfectly ; but it was a private matter 
that just now he was not at liberty to explain. He 
might, however, without any breach of confidence, go 
so far as to say that her depression had no relation 
whatever either to her anticipated fortune or to her 
North Carolina friends; he was in position to know 
that its cause lay very much nearer RockboiV than 
Ealeigh, and was one affecting the heart rather than 
the purse. 

‘‘ Ah, poor girl ! Have you jilted her, Mark It 
was the voice of that incorrigible prevaricator, Fen- 
wick ; he had been standing near by in the crowd, un- 
perceived by the young lawyer. “ How she must adore 
you; but, say now, old fellow, was it just the manly 
thing to so trifle with the young lady’s heart?” 

“Mr. Fenwick ” said Jettings, turning on his 

enemy with a flushed face. 

“Proceed,” remarked Fenwick, coolly. “.Get the 
wax out of your ears, boys ; when Mark is on tap we 
are sure to get something good.” 

“ I have nothing to say to you, sir,” retorted Mr. 


THE HAZEL THICKET. 


259 


Jettings, angrily, and then turning on his heel, he 
sought for more congenial company. 

am afraid,^^ said Fenwick, quietly, as he struck 
the tufts of grass about him with his riding-whip, 
‘‘ that Mark has not been greatly benefited by the 
religious exercises of to-day; he seems still to be 
unable to control his temper.^^ 

The day, bright but rather cool in the morning, had 
now become delightfully warm.' The road for much 
of the way either skirted the prairie-lands or passed 
through them, and it seemed to Mr. Iredell and his 
sister, as they were driving back, that a magnificent 
park lay around them, where variegated copse and 
grassy plain were mingled together in combinations of 
infinite variety and loveliness. They had seen the 
broad, treeless, monotonous prairies of the great West; 
but here were found those alternations of shadow and 
sunshine, of glebe and copse, of rich autumn flowers to 
decorate the plain, and rich autumn foliage to beautify 
the forest, of which the eye never grows weary, and to 
which the memory always recurs with pleasure. Mr. 
Iredell, after looking about him silently for a while, 
said, — 

‘^The landscape is delightful; the day is delight- 
ful. I believe I am bewitched, — enchanted. I do not 
wonder now. Cousin Margaret, at your leaving Wash- 
ington so suddenly ; this is a paradise compared with it.’^ 

‘^You’ll change your mind if you remain long,” 
Margaret replied. few days of rain, mud, and 

solitude, will make you anxious enough to get back to 
paved streets and the excitement of town life.” 


2 G 0 the belle O ’ beckets lane. 

‘^Pardon me, but really I cannot believe you. I 
have never spent a pleasanter day than this has been 
to me anywhere. The people whom we met, although 
strangers to us in the morning, seem like old friends 
this afternoon.’’ 

Yes,” responded Miss Florence, they saw that you 
were verdant and very vain, and they flattered you ; but 
don’t flatter yourself that they did not discover that you 
were a humbug. They did ; even the dullest of them 
had discernment enough for that.” 

Nonsense ; they took me for the sensible fellow I 
am. It may be, indeed, that they were surprised to 
find me bringing a woman like you where there were 
so many handsomer ladies. That was a point against 
me, I confess.” 

There your vanity leads you into a mistake again. 
They knew, of course, that there were handsomer ladies, 
but they had the good sense to see also that these were 
beyond your reach, and that you were compelled to bring 
your sister if you brought any one.” 

Now see how unjust and untruthful you are. Here 
are Miss Fithian and Cousin Margaret with me.” 

Say rather with me. They came at my request, 
and I am under a thousand obligations to thetn. It 
was bad enough to go out alone with you ; it would 
have been intolerable to return without them.” 

Ball ! Miss Fithian, don’t you knew of some en- 
terprising young man, rather reckless and tough and 
accustomed to hardships, who could be induced to take 
my sister off my hands ? Really, I am getting tired 
of her.” 


THE HAZEL THICKET. 


261 


“ Oh, yes ; I think I know many wlio would be de- 
lighted to do it,'’ Miss Sallie said, laughing. 

For goodness' sake, send them to me !" replied ]\Iiss 
Florence. 

No use," said Mr. Tom, as if on second thouglit 
the case was hopeless. ^^They might come if you re- 
quested it, Miss Fithian, but they'd soon go. Florence 
was foreordained to be an old maid. I shall have her 
on my hands for life." 

Mr. Iredell and his sister were good friends always, 
and proud of eacli other ; but they often indulged in 
playful raillery, which when reported seems harsh, but 
as spoken was kind and gentle enough. Tiiey found 
great amusement in putting each other on the defen- 
sive, and during this delightful drive there was a con- 
stant interchange of badinage between them, in which 
all the weak points, real and imaginary, of their char- 
acters were exposed and commented upon, to the enter- 
tainment of their companions. Long before the car- 
riage pulled up in front of Becket's, Miss Sallie, who 
at first was rather shy and silent in their presence, felt 
that she knew them intimately and liked them thor- 
oughly. 

Upqn their p’rival at Donald’s house they found a 
substantial dinner smoking on the table, and after 
ample justice had been done to this, the young people, 
tempted by the soft air without and the delightful 
prospect, plunged into the hazel thicket which lay be- 
tween the Becket farm and the marsh-lands, and, 
guided by Margaret along paths which twisted and 
turned in every possible direction, soon found them- 


262 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKET’S LANE. 


selves in a little area of open ground, near the centre 
of which stood a group of black-haw trees laden with 
most delicious fruit. Nor was this the only delicacy 
which the wilderness afforded; still farther on in this 
labyrinth of shrub and tree and brier, by paths that 
seemed interminable, Margaret led them to wild-cherry 
trees and thorn, and places where grape-vines, clamber- 
ing above the undergrowth, had spread from bush to 
tree until they covered, as with a canopy, roods of 
ground to which the sunlight never directly pene- 
trated. There was around them a continuous chatter 
of birds, — the cat, the thrush, the woodpecker, and 
the jay, and now and then they caught the far-off cry 
of the brant as they were moving toward the inlet 
from some resort still farther south. 

^^The weather Avill be warm for some time to come,’’ 
said Margaret to Mr. Iredell, as she pointed upward 
to an arrow-shaped covey of wild fowl. 

How do you know, cousin ?” 

Because the wild geese are going north. They 
always fly southward when threatened by cold weather.” 

But how do they know ?” 

How does the bee know where to find honey ?” 

I cannot tell.” 

And yet it does know.” 

And you think the goose also is wiser than we?” 

Weather-wiser, yes.” 

You needn’t limit it to the weather. Cousin Mar- 
garet,” called out Florence. ‘‘ You may say, truthfully, 
that a wild goose is very much wiser in all things than 
the domesticated goose you’re talking to.” 


THE HAZEL THICKET. 


263 


levity/^ responded Tom. “ We are discussing 
a serious subject, and one far above your compreliension. 
Stick to the things you understand/^ 

I do. I have been sticking to the domesticated 
goose referred to all my life ; for twenty years', in fact.^’ 

“For twenty years cried Tom, indignantly. “ Why, 
the woman is thirty, if she’s a day.” 

“Have you forgotten this is Sunday, Mr. Iredell?” 
retorted his sister. “ It is awful to tell such whoppers 
on any day, but to do it on Sunday is terrible. I wonder 
that an avenging bear does not spring out of the thicket 
and devour you.” 

“Well, if his bearship was looking for a tender 
morsel he certainly would not take you.” 

“ I believe you’re right, brother ; I’d be too hard for 
him. He would prefer something after the style of a 
pudding — dumpling — something quite soft. Oh, you’d 
delight a bear. You’d dissolve in his mouth like a 
lozenge.” 

Tom turned to Miss Sallie, and remarked, dryly, 
“ She’d make a nice, agreeable wife for a quiet man, 
wouldn’t she? I should say a deaf man, for instance, 
or some one who had been accustomed all his life to 
the noise of a saw ; maybe one who is both blind and 
deaf.” 

“ Oh, I think she would do very well with any body, 
Mr. Iredell,” Sallie replied, with a laugh. “ She seems 
to hold her own pretty well with you.” 

“ Yes, I’m too indulgent.” 

“ Hear him !” exclaimed Florence. 

It was near sunset when they returned to the house. 


264 


THE BELLE O' BECKETS LANE. 


Mr. Iredell insisted upon having the carriage, brouglit 
round for the purpose of conveying MissFithian home. 
His sister and Margaret accompanied them, and when 
Miss Sallie said good-evening to her friends at her own 
gate, she felt tliat she had rarely, if ever, spent a more 
agreeable afternoon. 

You come late, daughter,’^ said Captain Fithian, as 
she entered the house. 

I spent the afternoon at Mrs. Crandall’s, father. 
Margaret’s cousins are there.” 

Margaret’s cousins !” exclaimed Mrs. Fithian. 

Yes, mother; Mr. Iredell and his sister.” 

Whadt sordt of folges, Sallie?” 

Splendid, mother. I think they must be very rich. 
Such style, such nice things. You never saw anything 
like it.” 

But Mrs. Fithian would not assent to this. She had 
for too long a time been the pride and ornament of that 
exclusive circle to which she recurred so frequently, 
and with so much delight, to be imposed upon by any 
enthusiastic statement of Sallie’s respecting the wealth 
and culture of the Iredells or anybody else bearing 
kinship to Margaret. The Iredells might be fair people, 
indeed, and possibly of some social standing; but there 
never was and would never be any who could compare 
favorably with, let alone excel, those who made up the 
brilliant circle so familiar to her in early life. 

^^Oh, Sallie, you habge nodt seen mudge of the 
world. You do nodt know whadt wealth and style 
are.” 

I think I do, mother, and these people are both 


THE HAZEL THICKET. 265 

wealthy and stylish ; you may be quite sure of that, and 
they are very agreeable, also/’ 

^^But,” interposed the captain, thought Mar- 
garet’s relatives had abandoned her ; didn’t you tell me 
that ?” 

No, father, I never knew ; but everybody said she 
came back disappointed and very sad, and I presume 
they inferred from this that her North Carolina friends 
had not received her kindly ; but it must be all a mis- 
take.” 

But why did she not remain with them ?” persisted 
the father. 

I do not know ; but I am now quite sure it was 
not for any manifestation of unkiudness on their part. 
They are evidently proud of her, and like her very 
much. In fact, I suspect that Mr. Iredell loves Mar- 
garet. I noticed that he would not let her go out of 
his sight for a moment, and that she at times seemed 
to be somewhat annoyed by his marked attention. 
There is something about it all I do not understand.” 

Well,” continued the captain, as he resumed the 
pipe, which for a moment he had held in his hand un- 
used, I wish her well. She’s certainly a handsome, 
modest, deserving girl.” 

Very good for Beckedt’s Lade, my deah,” observed 
Mrs, Fithian. 

For anybody’s lane, mother,” replied the captain, 
with emphasis. * 


M 


23 


266 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE, 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE FISHERS. 

Mr. Thomas Iredell lodged and breakfasted at 
the Rook boro’ hotel, but his sister remained with Mar- 
garet on the farm. It was on the third day, I think, 
after their arrival that Mr. Iredell and Mr. Boshockle 
drove out from the village together and stopped at the 
Becket homestead. Old Donald, who was busily en- 
gaged preparing winter shelter for his cattle, was sum- 
moned to the house and informed by the lawyer that 
his presence was desired to witness a business transac- 
tion in which he would be to some extent interested. 
When all were assembled in the guest-room, Mr. Bos- 
hockle drew from his overcoat-pocket a package of 
papers, and opening it spread the contents on the table 
before them. These documents, he proceeded to ex- 
plain, recite that Margaret Huntly is entitled to certain 
lands and tenements in North Carolina originally be- 
longing to her grandfather, but which at his decease, 
owing to the absence of all knowledge of her existence, 
were taken possession of by others. In consideration 
of the facts stated, the lands and tenements referred to 
have been released to Miss Huntly, her heirs and assigns 
forever, and in lieu of rentals hitherto derived from 
the real estate, and of the personal property as well, 


THE FISHERS. 


267 


which of right belonged to Margaret’s mother, he had 
the honor, also, as an attorney, to tender to ]\Iiss Himtly 
a certificate showing that the sum of one hundred and 
twenty thousand dollars was deposited in the Manhat- 
tan Company’s Bank of New York City, payable to 
her order on demand. If all this, Mr. Boshockle went 
on to say, was satisfactory to her and her friends, she 
would be requested to execute certain papers, already 
prepared and lying before him, whereby her legal 
assent would be given to this settlement. If, however, 
she desired time, either for reflection or investigation, 
before consenting to the division of the property pro- 
posed, she was at perfect liberty to avail herself of it, 
and every facility would be afforded to enable her to 
obtain a full knowledge of her legal rights as the heir 
of her grandfather, the late Thomas Iredell, of Wil- 
mington, North Carolina. His clients, two of whom 
were present, had been in some sense compelled to 
resort to this method of adjustment because they found 
that Miss Huntly would neither assert her just claim 
nor authorize others to investigate it for her, with a 
view to effecting a settlement in the ordinary way. 
He could assure her, however, that the division pro- 
posed had been agreed upon by a committee consisting 
of gentlemen of high standing, who had no other in- 
terest in the matter than to see that exact justice was 
done to all concerned. 

While Mr. Boshockle was making this statement it 
was observed that Margaret’s face grew very pale, and 
that she trembled slightly. When he had finished she 
rose from her seat, and going to Mr. Iredell and his 


268 BELLE O' BECKET'S LANE. 

sister, took their hands in hers, and, while the tears 
were streaming down her cheeks, said, — 

I fear yon have been overgenerous in this. I 
neither hoped for it, nor thought of it.^’ 

‘^No; but we have,” replied Tom, emphatically. 

It was because you would not that we were compelled 
to do it. We may even now have failed to do you full 
justice, but we have done the best we could to make 
right that which has too long been wrong. It would 
suit us better now to have you select your own advisers 
and take all the time you desire.” 

^^Oh, I want no time!” replied Margaret. I do 
not question the honesty of your intentions. My only 
fear at this moment is that you have forgotten what 
was due to yourselves and thought only — or thought 
too much — of me. This is my fear.” 

^^But you must entertain no such thought,” Tom 
answered ; the division was made by others, — by dis- 
interested parties ; their report is lying with the other 
papers on the table before you. The adjustment is as 
nearly right, I believe, as it can be made.” 

‘^Cousin Florence,” said Margaret, “do you think 
so?” 

“Ido.” 

“ Does your mother agree with you in it all ?” 

“ Entirely.” 

Then turning to Mr. Boshockle, she asked, — 

“ What papers do you desire me to sign ?” 

The lawyer laid them out before her, and explained 
their contents. Margaret affixed her signature, and 
Mr. Crandall was then called upon to witness the trans- 


THE FISHERS. 


2G9 


action. He drew liis chair up to the table with evident 
reluctance, and wrote his name with some difficulty, for 
his hands were hard and stiff. When he laid down 
the quill he turned and said to them, in tremulous 
tones, — 

I fear we ha’ lost mair the day than Margaret hae 
gained. She hae got a few wee bits o’ paper whilk 
represent little save care and trouble. We ha’ lost 
thae bairn wham we love, an’ wha hae alwa’ been a 
joy to us.” 

^^JSTo, no, father,” cried Margaret, throwing her 
arms about the old man’s neck. You have not lost 
me, and you will not. If you think it for the best,” 
she continued, as she lifted a package from the table, 

these papers, which I am told belong to me, shall go 
into the fire at once. You took me when I was home- 
less, you have been my best friend always, and you 
shall find that I will not be slow to obey you now. 
Shall I destroy them ?” 

believe in mv heart it wad be better for ye, 
darlin’.” 

As Margaret sprang toward the hearth, in obedience 
to old Donald’s wish, Tom intercepted her, and with 
gentle force took the papers from her hand. 

^^Do nothing in haste. Cousin Margaret. If you 
were to burn these I should be compelled to destroy 
those you have signed, and the whole work would 
be to be done over again. I shall deliver the papers 
to Mr. Boshockle for the present; they are not safe 
with you ; your father will think better of it after 
a while.” 


23 * 


270 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


It may be, it may be,” said Donald, solemnly ; but 
I ha’ my doots, Misther Iredell, an’ yet I wadna ha’ 
Margaret shirk a single duty i’ life. If this be a re- 
sponsibility, indeed, whilk she should assume, let her 
tak’ it up, an’ hold it bravely, bein’ thochtfu’ the while 
rather o’ ithers than hersel ; but if it be a burthen 
whilk she may lay down rightfully, an’ wi’ out con- 
travenin’ thae wull o’ heaven, then she should be re- 
leased. I ken weel thae horde o’ temptin’ deils whilk 
ever follow i’ thae wake o’ wealth, an’ drive those who 
possess it ta gluttony, intemperance, immorality, crime, 
feebleness o’ body, imbecility o’ mind, an early grave, 
an’ an eternity o’ sorrow ; spoilin’ thae best o’ natures, 
pervertin’ thae best o’ intentions, sowing misery broad- 
cast, strewin’ time wi’ human wrecks, an’ eternity wi’ 
blasted souls. Thae gude God spake thae eternal 
truth when He said that a rich mon shall hardly enter 
into the kingdom o’ heaven. An’ shall I advise thae 
bairn wham I love better than my ain life ta put i’ 
jeopardy thae happiness o’ this world, and thae joys o’ 
thae life hereafter, for thae sake o’ sich triflin’ baubles 
as goAvd an’ siller, or houses an’ lands? We ha’ Ian’ 
eneugh, we ha’ siller eneugh, we ha’ thae roof aboon 
our heads. What we need mair, an’ need only, is thae 
fear o’ God whilk is thae beginnin’ o’ wisdom, an’ thae 
love o’ God shed abroad in our hearts, whilk is better 
than a’ thae wealth o’ thae world ” 

'‘Oh, Donald,” broke in Mrs. Crandall, "say no 
more now. Let us take time t6 think.” 

" An’ time to pray,” added Donald, solemnly. " Lead 
us not into temptation, an’ deliver us frae evil, for 


THE FISHERS. 


271 


Thine is thae kingdom, thae power, an’ thae glory for- 
ever. Amen.” 

As Mr. Iredell and the lawyer subsequently walked 
from the house to the road together, the latter said, — 

I can almost believe now that Stephen Girard is a 
pauper. It is quite certain that Crandall would not 
exchange estates with him. Did you ever before meet 
such a fanatical old simpleton ?” 

‘‘ I do not think he is that,” Iredell replied, re- 
servedly. ^^He is honest and sincere, and it strikes 
me he may have hit the truth more nearly than you 
and I imagine. It is certain that life at best is not 
long, and equally certain that that course is the wise 
one which makes it happiest for ourselves and others.” 

Well, that may be so. It doubtless is so, for the 
proposition seems self-evident. At any rate, I will 
withdraw my disparaging criticism of Crandall, for the 
man who coolly turns his back on a half million can 
certainly not be accused of selfishness, and is therefore 
entitled to respect. Shall I retain these papers?” 

Yes, until they conclude to accept. She will, I 
think, on second thought, not hesitate to take them.” 

May I send the carriage for you in the even- 
ing?” 

“ No, thank you. I shall walk to the village. Good- 
morning.” 

When Iredell returned to the house, old Donald 
had gone back to his work, and Mrs. Crandall was 
absorbed in her various household duties. The sun 
was shining warmly, and Florence, with a view to 
diverting Margaret’s thoughts from the business of the 


272 BELLE 0 ’ BECKET’S LANE. 

morning, had suggested that it would be delightful to 
spend the afternoon in the open air. Tom, when he 
rejoined them, was of the same opinion. And so they 
gathered up the necessary fishing-tackle and started for 
the brook. There was no further mention of the 
affair of the morning. Tom thought it best to allow 
the matter to rest for the present ; he did not doubt 
that it would ultimately end as he desired. And as 
they walked up the lane he endeavored to restore the 
old feeling of careless good humor which ordinarily 
characterized their intercourse with each other. 

Margaret knew where to find the pools, some in the 
sunshine of the prairie, others in the shadowy depths 
of the timber-lands, which the bass and pickerel fre- 
quented most. Florence had never thrown a line, and 
Tom w^as very far from being an accomplished angler, so 
that the blunders of her companions afforded Margaret 
no little amusement. 

It was not long before a four-pound bass picked up 
Florence’s hook and carried it, as she imagined, with 
the rapidity of lightning down the stream. Then be- 
gan such a struggle as she had never hitherto experi- 
enced. Her whole frame quivered with excitement, and 
slie seemed to feel, indeed, as if it was a debatable 
question whether the fish had her in its toils or she the 
fish. 

“ Pull him gently,” shouted her brother, who forgot 
his own line in his anxiety to see how the contest 'would 
terminate. 

Keep quiet, you simpleton ; you’ll scare the fish,” 
responded Florence. 


THE FISHERS. 


273 


Now give him more play/^ 

Play ! Isn’t he having all the fun he wants? See 
how he jumps. Gracious ! but he’s a lively fellow.” 

It was a royal moment when she finally succeeded in 
landing it on the bank. Her cheeks flushed and her 
eyes flashed as if she had single-handed won a brilliant 
victory. 

He’s a monster !” she said, proudly, as she watched 
it floundering on the grass. I don’t believe there 
was ever so big a fish caught with hook and line be- 
fore.” 

It’s a regular whale,” said Tom, in envious mock- 
ery. ^^It must weigh fully half a pound.” 

“You’ve lost the little good sense you ever had, Tom.” 

“ No, no ; I hope not,” he replied, laughing. 

“Well, then, you never had any.” 

“ It’s a worthless sheep’s-head,” said Tom, pretend- 
ing to examine the fish more closely. “ The more you 
cook ’em the tougher they get. Kick it into the stream, 
Florence. It is considered disgraceful to catch a sheep’s- 
head, and no good angler ever does it.” 

“ Cousin Margaret, what kind of fish is this ?” de- 
manded Florence. 

“ A black bass.” 

“ Is it good to eat ?” 

“Excellent.” 

“Well, I thought it could not be a sheep’s-head ; its 
head is so entirely unlike brother Tom’s.” 

“ Poor compliment to the fish, sister. But that’s the 
way with you women ; you first get things on your 
hook, and, when they’re helpless, torture them. Now 

s 


274 


THE BELLE O' BECKETS LANE. 


that fish would have died happy if you had said he 
looked like me.’’ 

You are mistaken, brother; he would only have 
wished he had never been born. But tell me now how 
to get the hook out of its mouth.” 

By Jove !” exclaimed Tom, bringing his fist down 
emphatically. We forgot to bring a corkscrew, 
Cousin Margaret, to draw the hooks.” 

Did you forget the corkscrew, Tom ?” said Flor- 
ence, with an air of surprise. 

’Poll honor, I did.” 

Well, it’s the first time in your life you ever forgot 
the corkscrew.” 

‘^You’re mistaken, Florence; it’s the last.” 

“Never mind; come and disengage the hook, and 
quit your nonsense.” 

Tom obeyed, and soon after became suddenly silent. 
His own line began to tremble and make little ripples 
in the pool. The cork disappeared, and finally the 
line was drawn lazily up the stream. He now gave 
a quick pull and threw upon the shore a little slate- 
colored, scaleless fish, having an enormous head. 

“ Great Jupiter, what a prize !” he exclaimed. 

“ I should say so,” remarked Florence, looking over 
her shoulder contemptuously at his catch. 

“ It’s worth its weight in gold,” continued Tom. 

“ In a market where ugliness is at a premium.” 

“ For its rarity and delicacy,” said Tom. “ Epicures 
pine for fish like that ; they serve ’em up with orioles, 
humming-birds, and nightingales.” 

“ And then throw them to the dogs.” 


THE FISHERS. 


275 


My mouth fairly waters in anticipation of the lus- 
cious repast which awaits me/^ 

Well, well, you shall have it all. What in the 
name of goodness is this thing, Margaret, that Tom 
has caught 

A bull-pout.^’ 

Isn’t it very nearly related, say a half-brother, 
maybe, to the bullfrog?” 

I think not.” 

“ Do people, people in the last stages of starvation, 
for instance, ever eat them ?” 

Oh, yes,” Margaret replied, laughing. 

Well, I congratulate Thomas on his good luck and 
great skill ; his next catch will probably be a toad.” 

“ Thank you,” broke in Tom. It requires the most 
exquisite skill to catch a bull- pout. See what a tremen- 
dously well-developed head it has, full of cunning as an 
egg is of meat. It knows more than an ordinary con- 
gressman, and is much more difficult to hook. I do 
not suppose one has been caught in these waters before 
within the recollection of the oldest inhabitant. See 
the beauty ! Nature has prepared him for the pot ; not 
a scale on him.” 

But Florence had by this time become interested in 
her line, and paying no further attention to her brother’s 
eulogy of the fish, he relapsed into silence and baited his 
hook for another cast. 

On the way back to the house, full-handed, in the 
evening, they were overflowing with banter. At dinner 
Florence’s bass occupied the place of honor in the cen- 
tre of the table, but Tom’s bull-pout, nicely fried, was 


276 BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

placed as a special dish beside his own plate, and as he 
ate it he was overheard to remark quietly, but rather 
boastingly, to his sister, that he could now understand 
wdiy bull-pouts commanded such extraordinarily high 
prices in the fish-markets of the world. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE STRANGER FROM COUNTY FORFAR. 

Mr. Thomas Iredell and his sister had now pro- 
longed their visit nearly two weeks. Each succeeding 
day seemed so full of interest that they apparently en- 
tertained no thought of leaving. Old Donald was at 
first taciturn, and not altogether hearty in his hospi- 
tality. The presence of Margaret’s cousins was, he 
imagined, a standing menace to Margaret’s happiness. 
It might at any time lead to another separation, and 
he could not think of this, even as a possibility, with- 
out discomfort. Tom’s abundant and perpetual good- 
humor, however, soon found its way to the old man’s 
heart, and, relaxing by degrees, he finally recovered the 
genial kindly air habitual to him, became- exceedingly 
fond of his guests, and treated them with/that paternal 
tenderness which it so well becomes the head of the 
house to accord to the members of his family who are, 
in theory at least if not in fact, dependent upon him 
for protection, instruction, and advice. 


THE STRANGER FROM COUNTY FORFAR. 277 

The weather during this period was delightful. A 
subtle vapor filled the air, the light of the sun fell 
softly ; objects near at hand were partially veiled, those 
more distant afforded to the eye but a faint suggestion 
of what they were. It was, in fact, that dreamy, deli- 
cious fortnight of the year known as Indian summer, 
when nature mellows her more vivid tints, obscures so 
far as possible the marring strokes of man, and stimu- 
lates the imagination to seek and find in the landscape 
whatever is most agreeable. 

For some little time the moon had been at its full, 
the nights almost equalling the days in beauty. It had 
been IredelFs custom to take his leave of the Crandall 
household soon after supper and walk to Rockboro’ in 
the dusk of the evening, but now the brightness of the 
night afforded him a good excuse for remaining to a later 
hour, and he did not fail to avail himself of it. The 
evenings at Donald’s he found exceedingly pleasant ; 
besides the charming companionship of Margaret and 
his sister, he discovered that the old man was a student 
full of practical wisdom, quaint philosophy, and quiet 
humor. On the particular evening to which we desire 
at this time to refer, Tom and Margaret were occupied, 
or apparently so, with a game at chess, Florence had 
found a story in Blackwood that engaged her attention, 
Donald wasjooking over the village paper, and his 
wife was busy with her knitting. 

A rap was heard at the door, and Mrs. Crandall, 
rising, admitted a young man of twenty-five or thirty. 

Pardon me, madaru,” he said, with an accent that 
at once betrayed his nationality, ^^is Mr. Crandall in?” 

24 


278 


THE BELLE O' BECKETS LANE. 


Old Donald was on his feet in an instant. The man 
was a Scotchman, and evidently but newly arrived. 

I am Crandall, sir. Wull ye be seated? I per- 
ceive ye are frae Scotland, aif greet ye kindly.’’ 

The stranger, expressing his thanks, accepted the 
chair which Donald offered, and with a keen eye looked 
about him for a moment as if he could not at once 
reconcile the poverty and barrenness of the house with 
the elegance of dress, beauty, and culture of some of 
the inmates; but finally concluding that he must afford 
some explanation of his presence, he said, — 

I came to America less than a year ago, and in my 
travels here have made it a rule to call on my own 
countrymen whenever I could do so without too much 
trouble to them and inconvenience to myself. Upon 
inquiry in the village, where I arrived this afternoon, I 
ascertained that I could find a Scotchman here, and so 
came out to see you, and obtain such information of 
this new country — of its present advantages and future 
prospects — as you might be pleased to give me. I 
trust you will pardon me for intruding upon you at 
this hour.” 

“ It is na intrusion, sir. I am richt glad ta see ye,” 
old Donald replied, heartily. 

I thank you,” continued the stranger. It is nat- 
ural, I suppose, for us to feel more at home with our 
own countrymen than with the people of other nations, 
and more confidence in their statements. When we 
meet them in our travels they do not seem to us at all 
like strangers, but as old friends and near neighbors. 
They are, in fact, bound to us by a common interest in 


THE STRANGER FROM COUNTY FORFAR. 279 

the land of our birth, the history of our fathers, the 
scenes and associations of youth 

a Yerra true,’^ said Donald. We are alwa’ pleased 
ta hear fra thae auld birth-place, an’ time mon wha 
cooms fra thae hanie-neist wi’ tidin’s o’ those wha bear 
thae names whilk were familiar ta us i’ boyhood is 
ever a welcome guest, an’ I gie ye hearty greeting. 
We live humbly here i’ this new country, sir, but fu’ 
as weel as befits our merits, an’ although we are loyal 
ta it as its adopted citizens should ever be, yet we ha’ 
na forgot time Ian’ o’ our fathers, an’ time scenes o’ our 
early life. Frae what part o’ Scotland do ye coome?” 
‘^From County Forfar, sir.” 

I ken thae region weel,” said Donald, meditatively, 
recollect it verra weel. Its eastern boundary is 
thae North Sea. It’s a rough tract i’ the main, but wi’ 
mony dales suitable for the plough, an’ gude cattle 
ranges on thae hills. Maybe,” he continued, hesitat- 
ingly, — Na, na, that was afore ye’r time. I was think- 
ing o’ thae laird o’ Benleigh, but I mind me, noo, that 
he was a mon grown when I was a laddie, an’ he hae 
lang syne, dootless, gaun ta his grave.” 

The present laird of Benleigh,” replied the stranger, 
I have seen ; he is a man of forty years or more.” 
Thae son o’ thae auld laird wham I knew,” said 
Donald. The present laird couldna ha’ been born when 
I lef’ Scotland. I ha’ hunted wi’ his father af’en. He 
was mony years my senior, but a gude han’ wi’ houns, 
an’ fond o’ boys. I ha’ supped at his house mony a 
time; he was alwa’ kin’ an’ gentle ta me. Did ye ever 
hear o’ thae name o’ McWhirk — Malcolm McWhirk ?” 


280 BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE. 

He was the bailiff who had the fearful encounter 
with the jDirates fifty years or more ago. I have often 
heard of him from those who were with him on the 
night of the engagement and helped to carry the pris- 
oners to the castle, and who were present also at their 
trial and execution.^’ 

McWhirk was a resolute mon, an’ fearless,” said 
Donald ; but men did say there was a time i’ his life 
when he winked at the business o’ smugglin’ an’ that 
he became angry wi’ the smugglers because they failed 
ta divide wi’ him fairly, an’ so betrayed them. But 
God only knows; so fa’ as I ken, thae mon did his 
duty as an officer bravely, an’ thae ither tale may 
ha’ originated wi’ his enemies, for there were many 
along thae coast wha sympathized wi’ thae pirates, 
an’ profited by their nefarious work ; these would 
naturally enough waste no gude words on Malcolm 
McWhirk.” 

Did you ever visit the cave where they were sur- 
prised and captured ?” 

Oiice. It is a solitary place on thae frith, abutted 
for mony miles back by a rough an’ sparsely-settled 
country, occupied at that time mainly by thae con- 
federates o’ the pirates. Piracy an’ smugglin’ went 
han’ in han’ at that time, but I think McWhirk broke 
up thae neist.” 

Not wholly, but still the business has become very 
essentially modified since his day. There is more or 
less smuggling still, but in comparatively a small way. 
The crimes of wrecking and piracy are no longer per- 
petrated on the Scottish coast.” 


THE STRANGER FROM COUNTY FORFAR. 281 

Maybe — na, I think it hardly possible — ^ye — ye 
know somewhat o’ Lord Glenilas o’ Glenilas?” 

The one to whom you doubtless refer,” replied the 
stranger, regarding Donald intently, ^Mied two years 
ago.” 

“ Dead !” exclaimed the old man, springing to his 
feet. “ Did ye say he was dead ?” 

Yes, sir.” 

Groaning, as if smitten with some great calamity, 
Donald staggered, and would have fallen to the floor 
if Iredell and the stranger had not been quick to catch 
him in their arms, and seat him in his chair. 

Donald,” exclaimed Mrs. Crandall, hastening to 
him, are you not well ?” 

The old man was deathly pale, and apparently some- 
what dazed, but he recovered his speech in a little 
while, and said to Margaret, who had knelt beside 
him, — 

Fetch me a cup o’ water, my bairn.” 

The water was brought and placed in his hand. 
After putting it to his lips, he said, I feel better, noo. 
It was a momentary dizziness. Be seated again, all o’ 
ye.” Then turning to the stranger, he continued. 

Lords maun dee as weel as thae commons ; nane sa 
high i’ this world as ta be beyont thae reach o’ death. 
Tell me, if ye ken, what sort o’ man was Glenilas. 
Ye ha’ af’en heard men speak o’ him, maybe.” 

^^In youth men say he was hot tempered, extravagant, 
and dissolute.” 

I dare say, I dare say. He waur thae first born, thae 
heir, thae head o’ his family, an’ cam’ early i’ life intil 
24 * 


282 


THE BELLE O' BECHETS LANE. 


the revenues o’ a gret estate. Had he been reared i’ 
poverty he wad ha’ been a gude mon, for he wadna ha’ 
been tempted beyont his strength. Oh, the dreadfu’ness 
o’ riches ! They ha’ slain mair souls than war, pesti- 
lence, and famine, an’ yet men struggle, an’ lie, an’ cheat, 
an’ steal, an’ murther ta be rich. But tell me o’ him.” 

‘^He married rather late in life, and in his latter 
years became in every way worthy of his lineage and 
estate ; but it is known that he carried one great sorrow 
with him to the grave. He had committed an act for 
which he could neither forgive himself nor obtain for- 
giveness.” 

An’ what was that ?” asked Donald, eagerly. 

‘^Soon after his father’s death his younger brother 
sought persistently, but kindly, to induce him to abandon 
the life of drunkenness, licentiousness, and frivolity 
upon which he had entered ” 

Weel, weel, mon.” 

“ Provoked, at last, by this constant importuning, 
possibly annoyed by a sense of his own guilt, and an- 
gered beyond restraint by the thought that his conduct 
was tlie subject of espionage and criticism. Lord Gleni- 
las struck his brother and cursed him.” 

It wasthae fault o’ thae lad’s surroundings — o’ his 
education — o’ thae temptin’ deevels whilk aye follow 
i’ thae train o’ riches. It wasna thae fault o’ thae young 
lord’s heart.” 

But what did his brother do ?” broke in Margaret, 
impatiently. 

Nothing, in the way of violence, my lady,” said 
the stranger, bowing politely, but still keeping his eyes 


THE STRANGER FROM COUNTY FORFAR. 283 

fixed on Donald. He simply folded his arms, and 
answered, ‘ Strike again, my lord, if it pleases you. I 
bear in mind tliat we are sons of the same father, and 
were nursed at the breast of the same mother.’ 
They separated then, never to meet again on earth. 
But Lord Glenilas sorely repented of this act, and on 
his death-bed would say again and again, ‘ Oh, if he 
were but here, and would forgive me, I could die happy ; 
but now that I have driven him from home penniless, 
how can I meet the mother and father in the other 
world !’”• 

Old Donald, springing to his feet again, walked the 
floor like one demented ; then turning to the stranger, 
he demanded, almost fiercely, — 

“ An’ vvha are ye wha tell me this o’ Robert Crandall, 
Lord o’ Glenilas?” 

“ His son Arthur !” 

Old Donald, grasping the young man’s hand, said 
rather to himself than to others, — 

Oh, Bab ! Rab ! I ne’er blamed ye. I ha’ prayed 
for ye nicht an’ morn for forty years. Ye were a gentle 
boy, kin’ an’ gentle, an’ what ye did an’ said on thae day 
we partit i’ this world was said an’ done at the sugges- 
tion o’ thae deevil. Ye were by birth thae master, an’ 
I suld a’ been mair gentle like wi’ my admonitions, an’ 
mair judicious in thae selection o’ thae time, an’ mair 
forbearin’; but being proud an’ wilfu’ like, I couldna 
bear ta feel that my ain brother esteemed me an in- 
cumbrance an’ an annoyance ta him, an’ sa I turned 
my back on thae auld hame forever. I ha’ na been 
blameless. I ha’ na been blameless.” 


284 


THE BELLE 0’ BECHET'S LANE. 


CHAPTER XXXL 

SIR SAUNDERS McNAB. 

When Donald resumed his seat Mrs. Crandall took 
the young man’s hand and, bidding him welcome, in- 
troduced him formally to Margaret and her cousins, and 
while old Donald sat silent, apparently unconscious of 
the present and absorbed by the flood of memories 
which the last hour revived, the young people drew 
together and conversed in quiet tones of the incident 
that had so surprised them all. 

How did you discover that your uncle resided 
here?” Margaret asked. 

It took me a long time to do so, cousin, — I trust I 
may be permitted to call you cousin. It was an easy 
matter, of course, to examine the directories of the 
larger cities, and my attorney at Philadelphia addressed 
a circular letter to all the post-offices of the United 

States, inquiring for Crandall, a Scotchman, of a 

certain age. I have on my list now over five hundred 
Crandalls, two hundred of whom were born in Scot- 
land, forty of them bearing the name of Donald. I 
have already interviewed over one hundred. I did not 
confine my investigations to the Donalds alone, for I 
thought my uncle might have changed his name, either 
wholly or in part. It was my father’s last wish that I 
should find him, and the search has rendered my visit 


SIR SAUNDERS MqNAB. 


285 


to America more interesting than it would otherwise 
have been, for I have had an object in view, — an enter- 
prise on my hands, the result of which, he continued, 
pointing to the chessboard on the table, was, like a 
game, just uncertain enough to be full of interest/^ 

I can understand,’^ said Margaret, smiling. A 
little uncertainty as to the result adds greatly to the 
interest of the game, but Mr. Iredell is so careless that 
he deprives me of all pleasure. I know at the begin- 
ning that the game will end in his defeat.” 

^^Our Cousin Margaret is a boaster,” replied Tom, 
addressing the Scotchman, ^^and has but an imperfect 
memory : she remembers only the glory of her vic- 
tories, and never the humiliation of lier defeats.” 

^^Well,” said Donald’s nephew, “those are happiest 
who look only on the cheerful side of things.” 

“ But,” persisted Tom, “ she should have some regard 
for others, and not always gloat over the reverses of 
her friends.” 

“Oh, Tom,” said Florence, “nobody is at all likely 
to exult particularly over your defeats. The matter is 
of too little importance to occupy the attention of 
sensible folks.” 

“ I understand, then, sister, why you give it your 
attention.” 

“ I am not giving it attention. I am simply afford- 
ing you a little instruction.” 

The evening had pretty well worn away. Old Don- 
ald had so far recovered from his abstraction as to par- 
ticipate in the conversation with his usual cheerfulness. 
The young men were about to bid their friends good- 


286 BELLE O' BECKET'S LANE. 

night when the initiatory scratches of a violin and 
groans of a bagpipe were heard on the lawn in front 
of the house. The two instruments were endeavoring 
rather unsuccessfully to strike the same key. After 
many abortive attempts they finally fell into some sort 
of^ concord, and rendered an old Scotch air with toler- 
able effect. When the serenade ended, old Donald 
went to the door and invited the serenaders to enter. 
Mr. Jettings, with violin in hand, was the first to make 
his a})pearance, and came bowing and smiling in the 
most courtly and fascinating style, followed by an in- 
tensely auburn-haired Scotchman carrying a bagpipe. 

Permit me/^ Mr. Jettings said, with a gracious 
wave of the hand, to introduce to you the Honorable 
Sir Saunders McNab, but recently from Scotland, and 
a very accomplished gentleman, I assure you.’^ 

“ Misther Jettings’s compliments are ta high for me 
personally,^^ said the baronet, bowing profoundly to 
the right and left; ‘Hor I am but a modest mon, an’ 
not i’ the least proud o’ my rank, but still my regard 
for the truth compels me to say that nane can speak ta 
weel o’ the McNabs o’ Killcuddy. It’s an ancient an’ 
honorable race, as ye, bein’ a Scotchman, may ken verra 
weel yoursel’, Misther Crandall.” 

I dunna doot it at a’,” replied Donald. Mistress 
Crandall, Sir Saunders ; Margaret, Miss Iredell, Mis- 
ther Iredell, Misther ” 

But Donald’s ne}>hew had suddenly withdrawn and 
seated himself in an obscure corner of the room, with 
his back to the company. 

Charmed to mek ye’r acquaintance, leddies, an’ 


SIR SAUNDERS MCNAB. 


287 


yours, Misther Iredell,’^ said the baronet, bowing with 
an air which was a ludicrous caricature of politeness 
and dignity. 

Ye ha’ a’ met Misther Jettings,” continued Donald, 
‘^an’ need na introduction ta him.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Margaret, rising ; be seated, Mr. 
Jettings. We are glad to see you. Sir Saunders McNab ; 
be kind enough to take a chair. Mr. Jettings, I never 
knew before that you were a musician.” 

Indeed I am not a very skilful one,” Mr. Jettings 
replied, with an affectation of modesty ; but feeling 
quite sure that Mr. Crandall would be pleased to hear 
the sound of a bagpipe again, and that you would all 
be pleased to meet Sir Saunders, I drove out with him, 
relying upon his skill to make good any deficiency of 
my own.” 

You were very kind to think of us, and we are cer- 
tainly under great obligations to Sir Saunders McNab,” 
said Margaret. 

Not i’ the least, not i’ the least,” Sir Saunders an- 
swered, rising from his chair and bowing. “ Your 
kindness is an ower great reward.” 

Ye are o’ thae McNabs o’ Killcuddy?” said Donald, 
inquisitively. I canna recall thae name, but then I 
ha’ been awa’ fra Scotland mony years.” 

Dinna ye recollect the McNabs ?” answered the 
baronet, resuming his chair, and facing Donald. It’s 
an auld family, auld as the mountains, Misther Cran- 
dall, an’ verra respectable, — verra honorable, if I do 
say it mysel’, wha maybe ought nae ta ; but, as ye say, 
ye ha’ been lang gane fra Scotland, an’ maybe i’ ye’r 


288 BELLE O' BECKET'S LANE. 

youth hacliia verra extensive acquaintance wi’ the no- 
bility 

Verra true, verra true,’’ responded Donald, quietly. 

Sir Saunders McNab and Mr. Jettings had met at 
the Rock boro’ hotel, where the latter was a permanent 
boarder and the former a transient guest. They were 
apparently congenial spirits, and soon became exceed- 
ingly intimate and confidential. Mr. Jettings was 
charmed with the nobleman’s condescension, and es- 
pecially gratified with his accounts of the wealth and 
splendor of his family. He was, therefore, easily per- 
suaded to vary the monotony of village life by joining 
him in a little lark. The narration of social adven- 
tures in which his noble friend had participated in 
Edinboro’ and London was intensely interesting to the 
village lawyer, and opened up to his imagination a 
wide field of pleasant thought. He was, it is true, 
rather astonished to learn that a gentleman with a 
head so red and a body so angular and unpreposses- 
sing should have been so uniformly successful with 
the first ladies of the old world, but he did not doubt 
at all that the baronet’s power over the fair sex lay in 
some subtle charm or grace of manner which, by dili- 
gent observation, he might himself discover and acquire. 
The brogue of this distinguished foreigner, and his re- 
peated references to his native land, would of them- 
selves have suggested Donald and his family to Mr. 
Jettings’s mind; but he had been, in fact, thinking of 
them constantly for two weeks, and it was but natural 
therefore, under the circumstances, that he should sug- 
gest to Sir Saunders that a drive of two or three miles 


SIR SAUNDERS McNAB. 


289 


would bring them to the house of an old Scotchman, 
where they would find a couple of very handsome 
young ladies. This information was received with 
delight by the baronet. Relying upon his bagpipe 
to obtain for them an invitation to enter any Scotch- 
man’s house, he had come out from the village in high 
glee, determined to make the most of his opportunity, 
not at all doubting that his ready wit would enable 
him to get safely out of any scrape which his audacity 
might get him into. 

Of coorse,” Sir Saunders continued, bein’ a stranger 
i’ this country, if ye learn ony thing o’ me ye maun get 
the information fra mysel’, an’ so I speak o’ mysel’ mair 
fra the necessity o’ the case than for the pleasure o’ it ; 
but it is ne’ertheless a fact that there’s na better bluid i’ 
a’ Scotland than that o’ the McNabs. The family hae 
been represented on every field o’ battle fra Bannock- 
burn ta Culloden. Wad ye like a highland air o’ the 
bagpipe, my leddies?” he continued, addressing Mar- 
garet and her cousin. “ I took ta the bagpipe in my 
boyish days as a pastime, an’ fin’ as I get aulder that it 
afen releeves the monotony o’ life. If it wad please 
ye,” he went on to say, adjusting the instrument before 
him, I will gie ye a highland air, an’ maybe ye wad 
like ta dance while I play. Misther Jettings an’ Mis- 
ther Iredell, hae ye forgot ye’r gallantry? Wull ye 
nae invite the leddies ta the flure ?” 

The easy good-nature and condescension of the bar- 
onet was astounding; but Iredell — never disposed to 
either criticise or condemn any proposition which 
promised amusement — offered his arm to Margaret, 

N i 25 


290 


THE BELLE O’ BECHETS LANE. 


and Mr. Jettings, thus encouraged, tendered his to 
Miss Florence, but before taking their positions they 
looked inquiringly at Donald. 

“If ye like, there can be na mair harm i’ movin’ 
thae feet ta thae soun’ o’ music than i’ movin’ thae 
tongue. There is, in fact, a, time an’ place for a’ things, 
an’ I know o’ na better place ta dance than i’ thae 
family circle.” 

“ Ye speak,” said the irrepressible baronet, “ wi’ the 
wisdom o’ Solomon, an’ deemonstrate that ye hae a gude 
Scotch head on ye’r shouthers.” Then motioning to 
the young people, he said, “ Mek ye ready.” 

For ten minutes the bagpipe filled the room with 
sounds almost deafening. Tom and his sister were 
familiar with the dance, and the mistakes of their re- 
spective partners instead of detracting from the amuse- 
ment added greatly to it. When the noble player’s 
face had become as red as his head with blowing, and 
the music ceased, the young people resumed their seats, 
flushed and laughing. 

“Now,” said Mr. Jettings in great good humor, and 
especially anxious to ingratiate himself into the good 
graces of Miss Florence, “ I think, if you all insist upon 
it. Sir Saunders will favor us with a good Scotch song.” 

‘^'Na, na, Misther Jettings, I canna sing,” protested 
the baronet. “ I fell down when a laddie an’ cracket 
my voice.” 

“ Oh, ho, that’s very good. Sir Saunders,” Mr. Jet- 
tings answered, with a laugh. “That’s an excellent 
joke. Come, Miss Iredell, I’m quite sure Sir Saunders 
will sing if you ask him.” 


SIR SAUNDERS McNAB. 


291 


Miss Florence did not ask him, but Tom did ; and 
the baronet yielded gracefully. 

“ Ro3’’’s wife of Aldivalloch, 

Roy’s wife of Aldivalloch, 

Wat ye how she cheated me 

As I cam o’er tlie braes o’ Balloch. 

“ She vow’d, she swore she wad be mine ; 

She said she lo’ed me best of onie ; 

But ah I the fickle, faithless quean. 

She’s ta’en the carle, and left her Johnnie. 

“ Roy’s wife, etc. 

“ O, she was a cantie quean, 

Weel could she dance the Highland walloch ; . 

How happy I, had she been mine. 

Or I been Roy of Aldivalloch. 

“ Roy’s wife, etc. 

“ Her face sae fair, her een sae clear. 

Her wee bit mou’ sae sweet and bonnie ; 

To me she ever will be dear, 

Tho’ she’s forever left her Johnnie. 

“ Roy’s wife, etc.” 

There was obviously some grain of truth in the 
baronet^s statemeut that he had cracked his voice, and 
therefore could not sing, but his audience was not dis- 
posed to be critical on an occasion like this, and so ap- 
plauded the song. 

‘^Now,^’ said the lively Sir Saunders, that I ha’ 
gi’en ye a measure o’ Scottish music on the bagpipe, an’ 
a sang, it wad be iia mair than courtesy on ye’r part, 
Misther Jottings, ta gie us a strain on the violin, an’ let 


292 the belle 0 ’ BECHETS LANE. 

me ha’ the honor of Miss Iredell’s han’ for a dance. 
Are ye a’ agreeable ?” 

Not waiting for a response to his question, the bar- 
onet rose from his chair, and, walking across the room, 
presented himself before Miss Florence, not doubting 
that she would accept the invitation ; but unfortunately 
for his scheme of pleasure, just then Donald’s nephew, 
rising, approached Sir Saunders McNab, of Killcuddy, 
suddenly, and before the baronet was aware of his pres- 
ence, took him gently by the ear, escorted him to the 
door, and kicked him out. The grimaces of the knight 
of Killcuddy, as he was being led away, were so ex- 
ceedingly ludicrous that Iredell roared with laughter, 
and even old Donald found it difficult to repress a 
smile. Before the noise occasioned by this scene had 
fairly subsided. Sir Saunders opened the door cau- 
tiously, and with a countenance provokingly rueful, 
said, humbly, — 

“ Wad ye’r lordship ha’ the kindness ta ha’ the bag- 
pipe an’ my bonnet put o’ the outside ?” 

“ Wha, in thae name o’ goodness, is he?” inquired 
Donald, as he proceeded to deliver the articles men- 
tioned to Sir Saunders. 

Sandy McNab, my servant, sir,” said the nephew, 

He is a mischievous, impudent rascal, whom I shall 
cowhide within an inch of his life.” 

‘^Misther Jettings,” said Sir Saunders, whose face 
still ornamented a crack of the doorway, if ye ride 
wi’ me ta-nicht, ye maun coome ; I ha’ important busi- 
ness i’ the town, an’ maun start at once.” 

Jettings’s face had grown scarlet, either from humili- 


SIR SAUNDERS McNAB. 


293 


ation or rage, and he did not manifest a disposition to 
accede readily to his comrade’s proposal ; but Margaret, 
feeling that his further stay would not prove agreeable 
either to himself or her friends, went up to him and 
said, — 

I am sorry you must go, Mr. Jettings ; but you 
have aiforded us a good deal of pleasure, and I trust 
you will come again. Good-night.” 

There was nothing now left for him to do but to 
take his hat and violin and join his noble friend on the 
outside. 

Well, dod-rabbit me, if you didn’t submit very 
meekly,” he said to Sir Saunders, in contemptuous 
tones. 

Submit ta what ?” responded McNab, sullenly. 

To being kicked out.” 

Wheesht, mon, ye’r rattled i’ the head. It is the 
court way in Europe ta han’ a mon gently an’ poleetly 
ta the doore. I perceeve ye ha’ na manners i’ this 
wooden country, an’ canna appreciate an act o’ cour- 
tesy.” 

should say not,” replied Jettings, angrily, as he 
mounted to his seat on the wagon. Now, do you 
know what I would have done had he laid his hand 
upon me?” 

Na,” responded Sandy, taking the unoccupied seat 
and starting the horse towards the village. ^^Now, 
wat wad ye ha’ doone ?” 

I w'ould have knocked him down,” said the law- 
yer, bringing his fist down savagely upon his knee. 

I would have ground him to powder. I would have 


294 BELLE O’ BECKET'S LANE. 

bespattered the floor with his blood, and then mopped 
it up with his carcass.” 

Ye wad na ha^ doone a’ that yerseP ?” 

I would.” 

Ta the mon what paid ye a hunder pounds a year ?” 

« Yes.” 

To the mon whose forbears ha’ ruled in Glenilas 
Castle for five hundred years ?” 

Yes.” 

Ta the mon whose faethers ha’ led yours into bat- 
tle at Flooden, Solway Moss, an’ ither fields?” 

Yes,” thundered Jettitigs. 

Ye’r a liar,” responded Sandy, firmly ; ye w^ad 
na dare tech a hair o’ his head.” 

Come, come,” said the lawyer, haughtily. I 
would not permit any man, however high, to use such 
language to me, and certainly not a miserable, cowardly 
flunky like yourself, who allows himself to be kicked 
out of a house like a dog.” 

Whoa!” shouted McNab, as he checked his horse 
suddenly and sprang from the wagon. Coome out, 
ye starvelin’ pettifogger, ye lyin’ deevil, an’ we’ll see 
wha’s the cowart. Coome out, I telt ye.” But as Mr. 
Jettings manifested no disposition to obey, the angry 
Scotchman grappled him by the collar and drew him 
violently to the roadside. ^^Now,” he continued, 
Stan’ up like a mon an’ show ye’r mettle.” 

^^Sir,” said Jettings, softly, “ I do not want to fight; 
it is against the law to fight, an offence punishable by 
fine and imprisonment. I was simply expressing my 
opinion in argument. I have no quarrel with you.” 


SIR SAUNDERS McNAB. 


295 


I thocht ye waur thirsting for somebody’s bluid.” 

^^No, no; I am no fighter. It is my business to 
preserve the peace.” 

But ye spake insultingly o’ Lord Glenilas.” 

You misapprehended me, my friend. I entertain 
the profoundest respect for his lordship.” 

Ye ca’ed me a cowart.” 

^^My dear sir, you are in error; I certainly used no 
such word ; or if I did, it was a slip of the tongue, for 
which I should not be held responsible.” 

While Sandy McNab was dancing around Mr. 
Jettings like a wild Indian, Donald’s nephew and 
Iredell had come upon the scene unobserved, and 
before the infuriated Scot could arraign his comrade 
further, a voice very familiar to his ears said, authori- 
tatively, — 

Sandy McYab, you worthless rogue, get home with 
you. If you harm a hair of the young man’s head 
you shall suffer for it.” 

Get i’ the wagon, Misther Jettings,” Sandy said, 
softly. We ha’ been a’ready ower lang on the way. 
Presbyterians an’ Methodists canna alwa’ agree, ye’r 
lordship, an’ I feel it ta be my duty, although in a for- 
eign Ian’, ta stan’ up for the kirk o’ Scotland.” 

Mr. Jettings had mistaken that loyal, unquestioning 
obedience which the clansman always render^ to his 
hereditary chief for cowardice, and had come very near 
getting his head broken in consequence ; for Sandy Mc- 
Nab, although angular of body and thin in flesh, was 
active, plucky, and far from being unskilled in the 
manly art of self-defence. 


296 


THE BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

COME BACK IN TWELVE MONTHS AND I WILL TELL 
YOU/^ 

Donald’s nephew now became as frequent a visitor 
at the Becket homestead as Mr. Iredell himself. The 
few pleasant days remaining of October were spent in 
nutting and fishing, occupations in which the young 
ladies participated with great delight. The charms of 
the field, thicket, and forest seemed to them inexhaust- 
ible, and the days were found altogether too short for 
their full enjoyment. Then came the first angry burst 
of winter, with its chilling east winds laden with sleet 
and snow, when Donald’s guests were driven by the 
inclemency without to a closer and more delicious com- 
panionship within. Then there were days when the earth 
was dark and sullen and the sky threatening, in which the 
young men took to the fields with their guns, traversed 
the woodland, then sought the weedy marshes, and re- 
turned in the evening soiled and hungry, but loaded with 
game. Then again there would be a recurrence of sun- 
shine and soft winds, when the girls, in heavy shoes, 
ventured out with their companions. In these rambles 
there was no lack of opportunity for quiet interviews. 
It was observed by Sandy McNab, if by no one else, 
that the members of this little party were disposed to 
hunt in couples, and that his poor master had so far 


^^COME BACK IN TWELVE MONTHS.^^ 297 

fallen from his high estate as to be the abject slave of 
Miss Florence, who was most saucy and arbitrary in 
her treatment of him, and even went so far as to deride 
old Scotland and call it a beggarly poor country, whose 
inhabitants were at best but semi-civilized. The saga- 
cious Sandy often remarked to himself, in a prudent 
way, how easy it would be to put the pert minx down 
by sharp retorts, and he regretted sorely, for the honor 
of his native land, that his master was not possessed of 
a little of his own haughty spirit, ready wit, and aptness 
in repartee ; but, although evidently lacking in these, 
Avhen viewed from Sandy ^s point of observation, his 
master was apparently wholly unconscious of his de- 
ficiencies, and appeared to be perfectly contented, and, 
so far as the eye could discern, absolutely happy. It 
is quite sure, at any rate, that he accepted the raillery 
of his fair companion in the best of humor, and did 
not once manifest a disposition to avoid her presence, 
a feat he might easily have accomplished had he been 
so inclined, for he could have distanced her in a foot- 
race. 

Tom when alone with Margaret lost all desire, if he 
ever had any, to indulge in boisterous conversation. 
Whatever he had for her private ear was spoken in 
subdued tones, and most earnestly. It was on the last 
of these rambles that he touched upon a theme sug- 
gested by him many times before, but never hitherto 
settled to his own satisfaction. 

You must go home with us. Cousin Margaret.” 

No, not now. Sometime, maybe; but not now.” 

You will find the winter months in the South de- 


298 BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

lightful, — another summer, in fact; and we shall make 
it ever so pleasant for yon.’^ 

do not doubt it; but I cannot go now/^ 

You still remember what I said to you in Wash- 
ington/^ 

You said so much that I may not be able to recall 
just the words to which you refer,’’ she replied, with 
mounting color and some hesitation, for she knew well 
enough what he meant. 

I refer,” said Tom, to the time I asked you to 
become my wife.” 

Yes, cousin, I am not likely to forget that. Please 
do not speak of it again.” 

“ But I must,” he said, resolutely. I came here 
for that very purpose, hoping you might be induced to 
reconsider your first decision.” 

I have often thought of you,” said Margaret, hes- 
itatingly ; “ of your kindness and generosity.” - 

Do not speak in that way. Cousin Margaret,” said 
Tom, interrupting her. I have been neither kind nor 
generous. I make no claim on that score. You owe 
me nothing, but I hoped you might come in time to 
like me.” 

And so I do now.” 

Enough to become my wife ?” 

Oh, no, cousin, that cannot be,” she said, impul- 
sively. If you knew all you would not ask me.” 

^^Knew all!” exclaimed Tom. What could I 
kiaow that I do not ?” 

It is, — I think it is my duty to tell you, for you 
have been like a brother to me. More thoughtful and 


“COME BACK JN TWELVE MONTHS.^^ 299 

generous, maybe, than a brother, and therefore entitled 
to my confidence — to a frank explanation/’ 

“ Yes, yes ; I hope so, cousin,” responded Tom, in 
surprise, and then the thought flashed through his mind 
that there might be some mysterious and horrible episode 
in Margaret’s history which she was now about to reveal ; 
but an instant after it occurred to him that he had no 
right to press her to tell what she would perhaps prefer 
to have remain hidden, and so he continued, ^^Say 
nothing more. Cousin Margaret, unless you feel that it 
would be a relief to you. I have no right to thrust 
myself uninvited into your past life, — into your secret 
thoughts.” 

You have at least a right to fair treatment,” the 
girl replied, with many indications of embarrassment. 

^Mndeed, I hope so. And I have never doubted 
that it would be accorded me ; but even that does not 
require you to reveal any unpleasant incident of the 
past. I have no right to inquire into the past. I shall 
be content with the future, if you will only consent to 
share it with me.” 

There is nothing. Cousin Tom, that I would care 
to hide from you or from any other friend who would 
respect my confidence, but there is much I should not 
like to have fall on tlie public ear and become the 
tlieme of idle gossippers.” 

“ I shall at least prove worthy of your confidence. 
You may surely rely on that.” 

I do,” the girl said, firmly. You have been told 
how I came to this farm, and how kindly I have been 
cared for since by Donald and his wife.” 


300 BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 

I have.” 

“You have heard of — of Mr. Becket — old Tom. 
Becket, as they called him here?” 

“My sister and Charley Landon told me of him.” 

“ In part ; they did not tell you all ; but few know 
how generous he was, — how entirely noble and un- 
selfish.” The girPs eyes had been moist before, and 
her voice had trembled somewhat ; but now her words 
came broken with sobs as she told him the simple story 
of her life ; of her love for Becket, and how he would 
not take her for his wife because his love was so exceed- 
ing great that it rendered him unmindful of his own 
happiness, and solicitous for hers only ; how it was at 
his request — his command, indeed — that she had gone 
away to learn something of the world, to test her own 
heart, to ascertain if she could be contented and happy 
here; and how, during the trial he had himself im- 
posed, she had never ceased to love him ; and how, 
subsequently, she had come back, rejoicing in her own 
steadfastness, to find him gone, — to find that he had 
been killed in battle. 

When the poor girl had wholly broken down, Tom, 
whose own eyes were wet with tears, took her hand in 
his, and said, softly, — 

“I understand it all. Cousin Margaret. I would 
have loved old Tom Becket, too ; but now let me ask, 
must I in separating from you, do so without hope ?” 

The girl looked quickly up, and then dropping her 
head again, stood for a time in deep meditation; but 
finally, and without raising her eyes from the ground, 
she answered, hesitatingly, — 


^^COME BACK IN TWELVE MONTHS.'^ 301 

I am not prepared to say — I do not know. If you 
should care for me so long, come back in twelve months, 
and I will tell you.’’ 

Still holding her hand in his, he said, confidently, 
‘‘ I shall be here.” 

“ I make no promise,” she continued, as she wiped 
the tears from her eyes. I shall not deceive you by 
any false professions. I do not know my own heart 
now. I may not know it any better then. I will not 
look for you, but if you come I shall, I think, be ready 
to say yes or no. You have been very kind ” 

No, I will not admit that. I have simply en- 
deavored to be just, — to be fair and manly, — nothing 
more. And now, let me say that you must not oppose 
me. You must not compel me longer to feel that I 
am indebted to you. You must do by me as you would 
have others do by you, — accept what belongs to you of 
right.” 

I have been fearful that it does not belong to me ; 
that I would become indebted to the generosity of 
others.” 

That fear is unfounded. The property comes now 
to you just as it came to me. You have no moral right 
to evade the responsibility. You should do us the jus- 
tice to accept it, and so relieve us from the humiliation 
of being your debtor — of withholding what does not 
belong to us, and never did.” 

have not thought of it just in that way. Cousin 
Tom,” she replied, looking him directly in the face, as 
if to ascertain whether he really felt what his words 
indicated. 


26 


302 


THE BELLE O’ BECKETS LANE. 


But I have ; and you ought not — ^you cannot, in 
fairness and honesty — longer refuse/^ 

Well, well, have it as you wish. We need nothing 
here. We are comparatively rich, because our wants 
are insignificantly few. I do not know what to do with 
wealth; and, like Donald, I fear it may bring trouble 
rather than happiness ; but, as you say, I have no right 
to shirk a responsibility which comes to me, let it be 
what it may.’^ 

I feel better,’^ said Tom, emphatically. “ I can 
look you squarely in the eye now.^^ 

Indeed said Margaret, smiling. “ I never ob- 
served that you ha<l been unable to do that hitherto.^’ 
Tom was ipaking an effort to regain the old feeling of 
playful good humor which never for any considerable 
time deserted him, and answered, — 

That, I fear, is because you did not observe me at 
all. Cousin Margaret.’’ 

The days were short now, and almost before they 
were aware of it the sun had disappeared, and the twi- 
light was upon them. Sandy was instructed to pick up 
the nuts which had been gathered and thrown into little 
heaps, and bring them to the house. Iredell and Mar- 
garet, arm in arm, followed by Donald’s nephew and Miss 
Florence, walked leisurely across the field to the lane, 
and then, without the least indication of haste, proceeded 
towards the homestead. It was quite dark, so dark, 
indeed, that Florence detected all manner of wild beasts 
lurking in the way-side shadows, and it became neces- 
sary for Donald’s nephew to guard her vigilantly. The 
evening meal was ready when they arrived ; a log-fire 


^^COME BACK IN TWELVE MONTHS.^r 3Q3 

was crackling on the hearth, filling the room with 
warmth and cheerfulness. The philosophic Donald, 
having disposed of his farm work to his satisfaction, 
liad located himself in the corner, which, by long oc- 
cupation, had come to be regarded as exclusively his 
own. He was the very picture of content. What more 
had the world to offer than was already within his reach? 
There could certainly be no better food than that on 
his own table, — good wheaten bread, butter as yellow 
as cowslip blossoms, fresh, creamy milk, and the ten- 
derest and juiciest of wild-fowl. The grandest castle 
could afford no surer protection against the storm than 
his humble roof. The fire which blazed upon his hearth- 
stone could not be excelled anywhere for cheerfulness 
and comfort. The floors were uncarpeted, indeed, but 
they were spotlessly clean. The walls were rough and 
bare of ornament, but they were thick and warm. 
What more of actual comfort could the possession and 
expenditure of millions have afforded him ? Not a 
single thing, in fact, that would have contributed one 
iota to the old man’s happiness. He had enough ; more 
would at best have been a burden. Those who take 
up wealth must assume the grave responsibilities it 
carries with it, — the obligation of stewardship, — the 
duty to guard it well, and use it for the best. If so 
used, there must be devoted to it days of patient labor 
and nights of anxious thought. If not so used, it be- 
comes not only an incumbrance, but a curse to its 
possessor. 

We need food; the simplest is the most healthful. 
We require clothing; the honest sheep’s gray is as 


304 belle O' BECKETS LANE. 

warm and comfortable as any. We must have bodily 
exercise ; what better can be found than that which 
may be obtained on the farm? We need books; the 
best are within the reach of all, and thought may be 
as vigorous in the cabin as in the mansion. In fact, 
Donald^s feet trod with steady step the pearly path of 
wisdom, and the gist of his philosophy may be found 
in that injunction of the Saviour, — 

Take no thought, saying what shall we eat or what 
shall we drink or wherewithal shall we be clothed ; for 
your heavenly father knoweth that ye have need of all 
these things.’^ 

The eastward bound steamer which left Rockboro’ 
November 5th, 18 — , bore away as passengers Mr. 
Thomas Iredell, Miss Florence, Arthur Crandall, and 
Sandy McNab. 

It is not at all improbable that the young Scottish 
nobleman, having concluded the search for his uncle so 
successfully, had now started out to find one who would 
be still nearer to him. Let us hope that in this new 
enterprise he will not altogether fail ; the fact that he 
is old Donald’s nephew should entitle him to our best 
wishes for his success and happiness in life. 


THE NEW MISSUS. 


305 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

* 

THE NEW MISSUS. 

The estate of Thomas Iredell, the grandfather of 
Margaret, embraced not only lowlands on the seaboard 
devoted to the culture of rice, sandy pine-lands far- 
ther west whose products were tar and turpentine, but 
broad, fertile fields in the hill-country of the inte- 
rior, where corn, wheat, and cattle were grown. On 
many of these plantations there had been for a year or 
more whispered consultations among the slaves about 
the new mistress who proposed to assert her claim to 
one-half of the estate. Many of the older servants, 
and especially those held in the vicinity of Wilming- 
ton, had seen Caroline Iredell when she was a dashing 
belle. Of young Thomas Iredell they knew compara- 
tively little; his father and grandfather were never 
popular with their servants. Since their decease the 
affairs of the estate had been managed exclusively by 
agents, the most of whom had been selected by the 
elder Iredells. It is not at all strange, therefore, that 
the unfavorable opinion which the slaves entertained 
of the old proprietors should have descended with their 
possessions to the new. Had the late Caroline Iredell 
lived among them it is more than probable she would 
have shared, to some extent at least, the unpopularity 
of her step-brother; but as she had been absent for 
26 * 


u 


306 BELLE O’ BECKET’S LANE. 

many years, those who had any knowledge of her at 
all retained no recollection of her now save that which 
was in some way associated with her youth, beauty, and 
generosity. 

Senator Landon was spending the month of Novem- 
ber at his home in Raleigh. It was while here that he 
learned that Mr. Thomas Iredell had brought to 'Wil- 
mington as his wife no less a personage than the new 
missus, — Margaret Huntly. He had left Tom in New 
York about the middle of September, but their rela- 
tions to each other had not of late been friendly. He 
had distrusted the disinterestedness of young IredelFs 
motives when they first disagreed about the settlement 
with Margaret, and he did not doubt now that his con- 
duct on that occasion, and subsequently, when he suc- 
ceeded in inducing his mother and sisters to yield to 
his wishes respecting a division of the property, was 
prompted solely by a desire to enrich himself at the 
expense of the other members of the family. It was 
not at all pleasant for this distinguished statesman to 
find that his effort to benefit his own family had re- 
sulted in a very considerable loss to it. In short, the 
good man felt that he had been beaten at his own game. 

What trifles affect even the lives of great men ! A 
few letters, written years and years ago, and long for- 
gotten, — letters of which Senator Landon had certainly 
no reason to be ashamed, — had been treasured up by 
a poor, wandering, homeless, unhappy woman, until 
they finally changed the current of many lives, devel- 
oped thoughts and passions entirely foreign to the sub- 
ject of which they treated, and secured that kindly and 


THE NEW MISSUS. 307 

hospitable recognition for the child which had many 
years before been denied to the mother. 

We can no more predict the effect which the slight- 
est word, written or oral, will have on those around us, 
and those who are to follow us as well, than we can 
tell where the winds may travel, and how many leaves 
and flowers and waters may be rustled by them, and 
what other currents they will mingle with to the end 
of time. The simple plaint of a child introduces a 
new element into the great aggregate of human motive, 
thought, and action, which may be so far-reaching in 
its consequences as to aflect for good or ill the destinies 
of millions. It is another fragment of glass added to 
the kaleidoscope of life which will henceforth influence 
all its combinations. 

Senator Landon felt keenly enough the disappoint- 
ment and loss which had resulted from his discovery of 
Margaret. His original scheme of marrying her to his 
son seemed at first so feasible that he did not entertain 
a doubt of its ultimate success, and he could not under- 
stand even now why it had mfscarried. He had spent 
too many years of his own life in politics to acquire a 
fortune, and possibly for this very reason had come to 
regard the advantages of wealth too highly ; but in jus- 
tice to him it should be observed that he was a good 
husband and a devoted father, who in all his struggles 
thought oftener of his family than of himself. His 
highest ambition now was to leave to his children an 
honored name and a good inheritance. This is cer- 
tainly commendable, but it does not constitute the 
whole duty of man with respect to those around him. 


308 the belle O’ beckets lane. 

There is a nobler phase of human character, com- 
pounded of love, justice, and charity, not limited in its 
sphere of operations to the home circle, which does 
what is right without calculating where the resulting 
benefits may fall. 

Senator Landon, with all his good qualities, was in- 
clined to cherish bitter enmities. He could not easily 
forgive those who had crossed his path, and thereby 
deranged or defeated any scheme upon which he had 
set his heart. He could not avoid the conclusion 
now that young Iredell had fathomed his motive, de- 
tected his plans, and cunningly set to work to bring 
about their failure. This deduction was mortifyingly 
poignant, because it suggested that an unpleasant fea- 
ture of his own character had been observed, but still 
more painful was the thought that his enemy had 
reaped all the advantages which he had taken so much 
trouble to secure. Under the pressure of his bitter 
feelings, and almost before he was aware of it, he laid 
the foundation of a family quarrel by questioning 
Margaret’s relationship to the Iredells, and insinuating 
that the division of the estate and marriage were parts 
of a cunningly-devised scheme of Mr. Thomas Iredell, 
by which he had succeeded in appropriating the lion’s 
share of his grandfather’s property. But, even admit- 
ting that she was the daughter of Caroline Iredell, a 
statement supported by no legal evidence, the fact that 
her father had been a vagabond and a criminal, and 
her mother a disobedient daughter who disgraced the 
family by a mesalliance^ were of themselves sufficient 
reasons, in any fair and equitable adjustment, to deprive 


THE NEW MISSUS. 


309 


the daughter of any share in the estate. When strong 
men, deeply moved by either prejudice or passion, un- 
dertake to speak of their likes and dislikes they inva- 
riably, but often unconsciously, say too much ; and no 
quarrels are prosecuted with more bitterness than those 
which develop among friends and relatives who have 
long associated together on terms of closest intimacy, 
and are therefore under obligations to each other for 
manifold benefits. We remember then the favors we 
have granted and forget the kindnesses shown to us, 
and so the charge of ingratitude is bandied back and 
forth like a shuttle, weaving garments of hatred and 
unhappiness, which not infrequently are subsequently 
dyed in human blood. 

The thoughts, feelings, and suggestions of the elder 
Landon soon permeated his own household, then gradu- 
ally spread to his own circle in society, and then found 
their way, months after his return to Wilmington, to 
the ears of Mr. Tliomas Iredell himself; but Tom was 
at the time too happy with his new wife, and too much 
interested in the pending preparations for the marriage 
of his sister, to give these reports immediate attention, 
or to be perce{)tibly disturbed by the revelation which 
they made of the open hostility of his former friend. 
He was not one, however, likely to rest easily under 
any reflection upon his personal honor, especially when 
coupled with unfriendly criticism of his wife. He 
had from the first questioned the disinterestedness of 
Senator Landon’s motives in bringing Margaret forward 
as a claimant, and had watched his subsequent action 
with the vigilance of one who had not only a pecuniary 


310 


THE BELLE O’ BECHET'S LANE. 


interest in the result, but an interest affecting liis happi- 
ness for life, and, therefore, infinitely higher. From the 
hour of his first meeting with Margaret he had felt that 
life would be delightful if she could be induced to share 
it with him ; and he therefore, so far as it was possi- 
ble, had made all other considerations subservient to the 
end suggested. It may be that he was not a man who 
would have been rendered permanently miserable by a 
failure to obtain his first choice. It may be true, also, 
that he would have been contented and happy with 
any one of a thousand others, for his was too mercurial 
a nature to exhaust all the possibilities of love by 
fathoming its lowest depths of intense feeling, experi- 
encing an ecstasy of delight in its requital, or a hope- 
lessness of despair in its disappointment. Margaret 
had estimated her cousin’s capacity in this regard cor- 
rectly. She knew that his affection for her was like 
a shallow stream which would ripple noisily, yet she 
hoped pleasantly, through life; and as that deeper, 
broader, quieter current for which she had longed was 
by fate denied to her, she had resolved finally to be con- 
tent with this, and make such return for it as she could, 
not doubting that if she failed now to love him as much 
as a good wife should, each succeeding year would make 
him dearer to her. He had been very generous, always 
courteous and manly ; and when the hour came for his 
acceptance or rejection, she had been called upon to de- 
cide between a life with him, full of opportunities for 
kindly deeds and the discharge of womanly duties, and 
one of seclusion, where there could be little else than 
regretful communings with her own heart. She de- 


THE NEW MISSUS. 


311 


ciclecl wisely, and the months which had elapsed since 
the marriage ceremony was performed at the Becket 
homestead, in the presence of Donald’s neighbors, had 
been a period of uninterrupted happiness. The time 
now flew too rapidly for the full enjoyment of the de- 
lightful drives, pleasant rambles, and social gatherings 
to which she was invited. Old Donald and his wife 
were coming on to attend the wedding of their nephew, 
and Margaret was looking forward to their arrival with 
eager and pleasurable expectancy. Among the many 
properties which liad been set off to her, but not by 
any means the most valuable, was a handsome cottage, 
with extensive grounds, in the suburbs of Wilmington. 
This, at Margaret’s instance, had been selected as their, 
residence and furnished with all the elegance which 
wealth could command. It was, perhaps, a month 
after they had settled down in this new home that 
Donald and his wife arrived. Tom had gone off* to 
some distant plantation for the day, and so Margaret 
received them alone. After the luggage had been put 
in charge of the servants, and while Mrs. Crandall was 
gone to her room, old Donald and Margaret took seats 
side by side on the spacious veranda which overlooked 
a wide stretch of handsome ground. 

Ye dinna mean ta tell me a’ this belangs ta ye, 
lass ?” he said, looking about him admiringly. 

Oh, yes. Father Crandall, and ever so much more.” 

It’s ower much ; ’twill spoil ye, my bairn.” 

No, no ; I hope not,” said Margaret, laughing. 

But it may spoil you, father. I am really afraid you 
will grow to be a proud, vain man.” 


312 the belle O ’ beckets lane. 

It’s verra beautifii’ an’ rich; I ne’er expected ta see 
ye thae mistress o’ sic a place, an’ I trust it wull na mak’ 
ye forgetfu’ o’ ye’r humbler frien’s, or think tamuch o’ 
this warld an’ ta little o’ the ither.” 

Taking the old man’s hand, they descended to the 
gravelled walk, and, chatting pleasantly the while, soon 
reached the stables. 

Wheesht, bairn ; ye dinna keep a carriage an’ 
horses ?” he said, humorously. 

Indeed I do.” 

Ah, weel, there is na hope for ye, then. Ye are 
clean gane, ta be sure. An’ ye ha’ plantations also ?” 

^‘Several. We must go and see them some time. 
^Tom has promised to take me, and we will all go to- 
gether.” 

^^It’s marvellous; seems like a dream ta me; but I 
hope it will na be a temptation an’ a snare ta ye, my 
chiel.” 

No, no, father ; we must accept God’s blessings for 
the best, not with distrust. That would be neither 
gracious nor grateful.” 

Frae my heart I hope they are blessings, my bairn.” 

Towards evening Tom returned and greeted his visit- 
ors most heartily. After the evening meal had been 
disposed of and the lamps lighted, Arthur Crandall 
and JMiss Florence drove over from the Iredell mansion 
to spend the evening and talk and laugh over the com- 
bination of apparently trifling events, recent and remote, 
which had so strangely drawn them together into one 
family. 


THE qUARREL CULMINATES. 


313 


CHAPTER XXXiy. 

THE QUARKEE CULMINATES. 

The breach between the elder Landon and Thomas 
Iredell gradually widened until the quarrel finally in- 
volved other members of the family, and led to un- 
pleasant bickerings between their respective friends. 
Mrs. Charles Landon knew little of the value of 
property. In fact she had been reared in the belief 
that her income was so abundant it would not matter at 
all whether she possessed a plantation more or less, and 
so she had yielded readily to her brother’s proposition to 
divide with Margaret. The objects which she released 
had never been seen by her, and were rarely, if ever, 
thought of. So that, so far as she could realize, she was 
as well ofif* after the division as before. The husband, 
however, took a more serious view of the transaction ; 
but as he had no property of his own at the time of 
his marriage, and had added nothing to his wife’s in- 
heritance since, he was not in a position to dictate as to 
its disposition ; but he was, nevertheless, secretly incensed 
at the turn affairs had taken, and this feeling, under the 
encouragement of his father, developed into one of un- 
disguised hostility to his brother-in-law. 

Richard Landon, junior, had never forgiven Margaret 
for her rejection of him. It was so abrupt and posi- 
tive, he thought, as to be almost, if not quite, insulting, 


314 the belle 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 

and he did not doubt that at the very time when it 
occurred there had been a perfect understanding be- 
tween lierself and Iredell, and that in the interview 
which took place in Washington on the day of his re- 
jection his rival had cunningly drawn out the particu- 
lars of his attempt and failure, with a view to humili- 
ating him and rejoicing over his discomfiture. He had 
often since recollected that Iredell was in most excellent 
spirits on that occasion, a fact he could not satisfactorily 
account for at the time, but which, under the light of 
subsequent developments, was easily enough understood. 
The elder Landon, therefore, almost before he was 
aware of it himself, had about him those eager to hear 
and treasure up any disparaging words spoken against 
Iredell and his wife. 

Florence was abroad. Margaret often heard from 
her, and received many urgent requests to visit Scot- 
land, but it was in that day a long and distressing 
trip to make, and Tom manifested no inclination to un- 
dertake it. Margaret, having become a mother now, 
found much to occupy her in her own home. It is not 
by any means sure that she discovered the new life to 
be better than she anticipated, and’ it is quite certain, if 
she ever expected to realize that ideal happiness which 
the young so often look for in wedded life, she had 
been disappointed. 

Tom had not proven to be a bad companion, but after 
the first novelty of his position as husband had disap- 
peared he became rather careless and negligent in the 
discharge of his marital obligations. It should not be 
inferred from this, however, that he did not continue to 


THE QUARREL CULMINATES. 315 

love Margaret, and treat her always with respectful and 
affectionate courtesy, for nothing could be further from 
the truth. He was proud of his handsome and intelli- 
gent wife ; but after a time he became enamored also of 
other things, developed a decided taste for politics, fre- 
quented roystering company, kept late hours, and was 
often away from home. All this did not promise hope- 
fully for Margaret’s future. She was, however, a cheer- 
ful, self-reliant woman, fond of books, deeply interested 
in her grounds, fruits, and flowers, and since the baby’s 
advent wonderfully absorbed in him. Still there was 
a shadow falling somewhere near her, and deepening 
gradually from month to month. Just what she ap- 
prehended she herself could not have clearly defined. 
Life, with all the sunshine about her, and all the 
wealth at her disposal, was less happy than the old 
days at Becket’s Lane. Old Donald had perhaps been 
right. Wealth can contribute little, if at all, to one’s 
happiness. Had old Tom Becket lived she would 
have been happier amid the poverty of her old home 
than surrounded by all the splendor of the new. Mar- 
garet was too loyal to her husband to crystallize her 
feelings in words as I have done, but it is none the 
less certain that in the recesses of her heart she cherished 
the old days, the old memories, and the old love as the 
most precious of her soul’s treasures. 

The summer of 1840 was one of intense excite- 
ment in all the States of the American Union. The 
universal distress prevailing in business and monetary 
circles besfan during the administration of President 
Jackson, and continued through that of President 


316 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKE'PS LANE. 


Van Buren, giving rise everywhere in the country^ 
to acrimonious political discussions which frequently 
led to personal quarrels, bloodshed, and loss of life. 

Van Buren had been renominated by the Democratic 
party, and Harrison by the Whig. It is probable the 
war of factions following the selection of their leaders 
was no more bitter in the South than elsewhere in the 
Union, but there has always been a marked difference 
in temperament between the people of the two sections. 
The men of the North discuss questions of public policy 
spiritedly, often indulge in personalities, and sometimes 
round off the whole by a vigorous fisticuff ; but they 
very rarely, if ever, proceed further. In the South, 
especially at the period of which we wTite, an insulting 
word or hasty blow almost invariably led to a duel, in 
which one or both of the contestants fell either wounded 
or killed. Very often a political quarrel was used merely 
as a pretext for a meeting, the true incentive being an 
old grudge, the presence of which, as well as the occa- 
sion of it, neither party felt willing publicly to confess; 
so that private animosities, growing out of business or 
social relations and family feuds, were frequently venge- 
fully indulged under cover of words dropped in the heat 
of political discussion that one party to the controversy 
would not retract, and the other would not abide. A 
slight toward a sister, sometimes real but oftener im- 
aginary, would be treasured up by the brother until, 
under the guise of a political quarrel, it could be 
avenged. And so rivals in love, law, and trade found 
in the politics of the time abundant opportunity to en- 
force their hatreds without subjecting themselves to the 


THE qUARREL CULMINATES. 


317 


public odium and personal humiliation which would 
have followed a revelation of their true motives. 

Thomas Iredell was far from possessing a quarrel- 
some disposition ; he was too full of good, hearty feel- 
ing, and too great a lover of genial companionship to 
ever engage with premeditation in a brawl, but he was 
at this time an active politician who did not hesitate to 
present and advocate with earnestness the views of the 
party with which he affiliated. He was also one who 
could not tamely submit to any reflection upon his in- 
tegrity, courage, or personal honor. His social quali- 
ties and humor served to render him very popular, 
especially with the young men of the State. Almost 
before he was aware of it he had developed into an at- 
tractive and effective speaker, and was recognized as a 
political leader of great promise and considerable fol- 
lowing. 

Senator Landon had observed the young man for 
some time with especial, if not agreeable, interest. The 
fact that they differed politically, and that Iredell was 
likely in future to exert more or less influence in the 
affairs of the State, had doubtless contributed somewhat 
to the senator’s dislike of him. 

A few weeks prior to the day of election Iredell had 
occasion to visit a plantation far up the Cape Fear 
Kiver, and while travelling thither in his own carriage, 
by easy stages, he came to a little town where the people 
from far and near were assembled to hear a political 
discussion. The elder Landon was present to speak 
for his own party, but for some reason then unknown 
the person who was advertised to meet him in debate 
27 * 


318 tee belle O ’ b egrets lane, 

had not arrived. As the afternoon wore away the mul- 
titude became impatient, and Iredell was beset on every 
hand by his party friends to supply the place of the 
absent speaker, and this, with much reluctance, he 
finally consented to do. 

The preliminaries having been satisfactorily arranged 
by a joint committee, the senator opened the discussion 
by regretting the absence of the distinguished gentle- 
man whom he had expected to meet, eulogizing his 
learning, eloquence, and honesty. Presuming, probably, 
upon the absence of a trained and critical s})eaker, he 
then sought by an intemperate and illogical harangue 
to arouse the passions and excite the prejudices of his 
hearers. His speech was often applauded, and when 
he concluded the satisfaction of his party friends was 
manifested by vociferous yells. The senator took his 
seat with the air of one who had exhausted the sub- 
ject, and left nothing unsaid at all worthy of the con- 
sideration of sensible people. This feeling was to a 
very considerable degree participated in by the audience. 

Those who were opposed to the senator politically, 
were greatly depressed by the apprehension that the 
day, owing to the failure alluded to, was destined to be 
one of triumph for their enemies. Landon had been 
long in public life, and the people, as is almost invari- 
ably the case with respect to those who hold prominent 
positions, had conceived an exaggerated idea of his 
abilities; while, on the other hand, Iredell, although re- 
garded by those who knew him best as a young man of 
fine promise, and by the people of the State generally 
as one whom time and experience might develop into a 


THE qUARREL CULMINATES. 


319 


leader, had as yet done little or nothing to entitle him 
to the confidence of his party. He was, in short, a 
comparatively unknown quantity, who might come up 
to the expectations of his admirers, or fall far below 
them. 

Success, whether the result of skill or accident, is in 
the popular mind the test of merit. Confidence is a 
plant of slow growth, which needs, as a rule, to be 
nourished through long years of patient industry with 
scrupulous care before it yields its perfect fruit. The 
words of a successful man come to our ears enforced by 
all the triumphs of his past life, while those of the 
novice in politics, law, or religion are received with 
doubt and hesitation. We say this must be good and 
true because this or that great man said it. Faith, in 
its various phases of confidence and credit, is as far- 
reaching and important in politics and literature as in 
our daily business. We must know what the world 
says of a man before we willingly accept either his 
book, his speech, or his promissory note, and so the 
maker of books, speeches, and promissory notes must 
be content to go begging for takers until, by slow de- 
grees,’ and after many rebuffs, he finally wins the con- 
fidence of the public; then and thereafter whatever 
he may put his hand to, whether it be good, bad, or in- 
different, is rated, by his contemporaries at least, as 
gilt-edged, received and circulated without distrust, and 
so becomes current coin of the realm. The poor and 
hungry unknown has travelled for days and days through 
the streets of our great cities seeking in vain for one 
who would exchange a loaf or a mug of ale for his 


320 


THE BELLE O’ B EGRETS LANE. 


literary jewel, while the well-fed and prosperous known 
has without an effort traded off his mental slush at a 
thousand times its value. Still men in trade, in litera- 
ture, and in politics occasionally stumble on fortune or 
fame or position in a day, making what is popularly 
termed a lucky hit, and so, in some small degree, it 
was with Iredell on this occasion. He began his speech 
by a flattering reference to the distinguished statesman 
who had just taken his seat, and regretted as much as 
he that there was not a foeman present worthier of^his 
steel. The speaker could not hope to do full justice to 
the cause for which he appeared, and certainly could 
not be expected to match one of Senator Landon’s age, 
familiarity with national affairs, and experience in de- 
bate; yet he would endeavor, in his poor way, to give 
a reason for the political views he entertained, trusting 
to the good sense and intelligence of his hearers to 
supply all omissions and other defects in his argument. 
To get his audience on good terms with himself, he 
told them an amusing anecdote having so general an 
application that friends and foes might laugh over it 
together. His unlimited fund of humor soon secured 
attention, when he proceeded to take up, item by item, 
the loose arguments and reckless charges of his oppo- 
nent. By dint of ridicule, lucid statements of well- 
known facts, and occasional bursts of eloquence, he so 
thoroughly exposed the speciousness of the senator’s 
logic, and the unreliability of his history, that the au- 
dience, at first astounded, finally broke into wild shouts 
of enthusiastic applause. Senator Landon had greatly 
underrated the young man’s ability, and by this error had 


THE qUARREL CULMINATES. 


321 


given him an immense advantage. He had anticipated 
the hollow declamation of a tyro in politics and oratory ; 
but he found instead one who not only knew the value 
of good points, but had the tact to drive them home 
with power and effect. Iredell had probably not de- 
voted a single month of his whole life to a systematic 
study of national affairs, but he had mingled with pol- 
iticians from boyhood, and absorbed about all there was 
to know. At any rate, the most important issues of the 
hour had been now for eight years discussed in every 
legislative body, in every place of public resort, and 
every newspaper, until they were as familiar to him as 
the letters of the alphabet ; so that when he resumed 
his seat, amid the tremendous cheering of the surprised 
and delighted multitude, he had said all there was to 
say, and delivered it with eloquence and effect. 

The senator undertook to occupy the half-hour which 
had been assigned to him for closing the debate, but a 
majority of his party friends, after listening apathetic- 
ally for a few minutes, turned away from the hustings 
with a feeling of disappointment, while his political 
enemies took forcible possession of Iredell, and bore 
him off on their shoulders in triumph. 

There was but one place of public entertainment in 
the village. This was thronged with excited citizens, 
many of whom were in the last stages of inebriety, 
while too many others were so far under the influence 
of liquor as to be noisy and quarrelsome. Had it been 
possible, even if not politic, Iredell would on this oc- 
casion have avoided the inn ; but he was in the grasp 
of his admirers, and, in defiance of his good-humored 


322 belle 0 ’ BECKET'S LANE. 

protests, was carried thither and set down in the public 
room. He was at this moment entirely too well satis- 
fied with himself and the world to willingly entertain 
a vengeful thought against even his bitterest enemy. 
He had overwhelmed his opponent, and won that most 
inestimable boon to the heart of an American, — the 
plaudits of the sovereign people. It was, in fact, the 
hour of his greatest triumph, when he could well afford 
to forget and forgive. As he stood with his back to 
the inn-bar, upbraiding his friends with gentle raillery 
for not treating Senator Landon more considerately, he 
was suddenly confronted by Richard Landon, junior, 
who, in angry tones, applied to him a most insulting 
ei)ithet. Quick as a flash of lightning, Iredell answered 
him by a blow ; then, although neither of the gentle- 
men were at all harmed, the people about them became 
as silent as if one had fallen dead in their midst, for 
they knew that among gentlemen of the South inci- 
dents like this were always followed by a challenge, a 
meeting on the field under certain conditions prescribed 
by the code duello, and the wounding or death of one 
or both of the parties engaged in tlie combat. 


SHALLNA LEAVE US. 


323 


CHAPTER XXXy. 

“ye SHALLNA LEAVE US IN THIS WAY, MON/^ 

Thkee years after the events recorded in the pre- 
ceding chapter a man in middle life arrived at Wil- 
mington. Stopping at a hotel long enough to make a 
few inquiries, he started out on one of the streets lead- 
ing to the suburbs of that city with rapid and resolute 
strides, as if he had on his mind an errand that would 
admit of no delay. It was the latter part of October, 
but the sun still shone hot in that southern latitude. 
After proceeding a half-mile or more, it occurred to 
him that the shady side of the avenue and less haste 
would be conducive to physical comfort, so he crossed 
to the opposite side of the street and retarded his pace 
somewhat. He was a large, straight, strongly-built 
man, whose beard was full and dark, although on close 
inspection an occasional thread of gray could be de- 
tected in it. After a little time his anxiety to go for- 
ward abated suddenly, and he walked on slowly as one 
upon whose hands time hung heavily. Then turning, 
he retraced his steps leisurely for some distance, as if in 
deep thought and in much doubt as to the feasibility 
of the enterprise upon which he had set out. Turning 
again, he walked toward the open fields which lay 'be- 
yond the town, pausing now and then to look about 
him as if he might be studying the foliage of the 


324 


THE BELLE 0 ’ BECKETS LANE. 


shrubs and trees, or deeply interested in tlie architecture 
of the modest but handsome buildings which stood in 
ample lawns far back from the public highway; finally, 
turning about once more, he walked slowly and thought- 
fully back to an open gateway, wheeled to the right as 
if he intended to follow the private avenue to the cot- 
tage at its farther end, whose roof, with many gables 
and massive chimneys, could be seen above the sur- 
rounding tree-tops ; but changing his mind, he veered 
suddenly to the left, continued along the margin of the 
public road for a few rods, and then threw himself on 
the green sward under the shelter of a spreading elm. 
As he lay there, with his head resting on his hand, a 
ball went bounding by him, and in an instant after a 
little dog and child came following it in full chase. 
The child stopped suddenly, as if somewhat alarmed 
to find himself unexpectedly so near a stranger, and 
the man, to reassure him, said, kindly, — 

The doggie beat you this time, my little man.’^ 

The child hung his head for a moment, as if in 
doubt, when the man added, — 

Is the doggie yours, my son 
Yeth, thir.’^ 

The dog, having now returned with the ball, and de- 
posited it at his little master’s feet, looked eagerly up, 
as if expecting him to throw it again, when the stranger 
said, softly, — 

He is a good doggie. What is his name ?” 

Frith, thir.” 

Oh, his name is Fritz ; a very good name for a 
dog. Now, will you tell me yours?” 


325 


“r^ SHALLNA LEAVE US.” 

Becket, thir/’ 

Indeed ! But you have another name, surely 
Becket Iredell, thir/^ 

“ Ah, yes. You live in the cottage yonder,” the man 
said, pointing over his shoulder across the handsome 
lawn which lay behind him. 

Yeth, thir.” 

The conversation was interrupted here by a voice 
calling for Becket, and soon a colored girl issued from 
the open gateway on a run, and coming up, said, — 
Yar mos’ scared me to def, honey ; I tot you was 
los’, or runned away ; come back wid me, chile.” 

But the little fellow was in no haste to return. 
Picking up his ball, he cast it before him down the 
road. The dog sprang forward after it, barking loudly, 
and the child followed as fast as his legs could carry 
him. 

Confoun’ dat dar dog and dat dar ball ; dey keeps 
me on de jump de hull livelong day. Come back out 
er de sunshine, chile.” 

The child, however, gave no heed to the servant, and 
she started reluctantly in pursuit of him. 

Pretty soon a carriage appeared not far away, 
coming from the direction of the town. 

Dar, honey,” the stranger heard the girl exclaim, 
dar comes yar mammy, an’ she’ll gib yer a ride in de 
kerridge, if yar a good boy and come out er de sun- 
shine.” 

When the carriage came up, the driver, stopping, dis- 
mounted, and opening the door, put little Becket on the 
inside. Through the open window we catch a niomen- 
28 


326 BELLE O' B EGRET'S LANE. 

tary glimpse of Margaret. She is stouter than when 
we met her last, her face somewhat fuller, but no whit 
less handsome than it was. The elegance of dress, the 
costly equipments, the sleek, well-kept horses, the hand- 
some carriage are all suggestive of a life of luxurious 
ease. The stranger’s eyes followed the carriage until 
it turned from the public highway and disappeared be- 
hind the trees which lined the avenue leading to the 
residence. He then rose, the victim evidently of a 
violent inward struggle, stood on his feet unsteadily for 
a moment, wiped the perspiration from his face, and 
then slowly, despairingly it seemed, w'alked towards the 
town. 

The day was wellnigh spent when he reached the 
hotel, and the lamps were lighted in the office. In- 
quiring of the landlord, he ascertained that a boat 
would leave for Norfolk at nine o’clock. There were 
three full hours for him to wait. After supper he paid 
his bill, directed that his luggage be carried to the 
landing in good time, and then went out in the dark- 
ness, hoping, perhaps, to divert his thoughts from some 
unpleasant subject by wandering about the city. He 
had been cherishing one hope through long, Aveary 
years. It had sustained him amid trials under which 
stronger men without the support it gave would have 
yielded in despair and sought relief in the grave. Des- 
perately wounded, he had by strength of will alone 
baffled death. While convalescing, he had been put 
through the form of a trial and banished to a penal 
colony thousands of miles away. Sustained by this 
hope, he survived the long, terrible voyage to Van 


“ ra SHALLNA LEAVE US.’’ 


327 


Diemen’s Land, struggled through the years of servi- 
tude, and then, with all the speed possible; hurried back 
to his own country and to his old home. Not resting 
longer than was necessary to replenish an exhausted 
purse, he had come on to Wilmington, and now a 
glimpse of the one who had absorbed his thoughts for 
so many years overwhelmed him with the conviction 
that he had been a poor, weak fool to cherish such a 
hope, to ever think of her otherwise than as a friend, 
to ever look for anything in life save disappointment 
and misery. And so, with hasty steps, he walked on 
through the darkness, bearing the heaviest and saddest 
burden of his life, — the knowledge of his own unwor- 
thiness and exceeding folly. 

Turning a corner of the uidlghted street, the sound 
of voices chanting an old hymn fell softly on his ears. 
He paused at the open doorway of the chapel, under 
the lamp which lighted the vestibule, to listen ; and as 
he stood there scenes of his early life flashed on him, — 
of the time when his mother led him to the sanctuary, 
when the mysteries of this world were in some way 
blended with the mysteries of that to come ; then of 
days of gloom and weariness, of trifling and dissipa- 
tion ; then recollections of an hour when the sun fell 
brightly on autumn foliage, and the voices of children 
were lifted up in songs of hope and consolation around 
an open grave; then thoughts of the weeping girl who 
stood beside it, — the meeting by the brook, — the quiet 
evenings in a rough cabin, and — but his reverie was in- 
terrupted here by the noisy halting of a carriage at the 
curbstone. Turning to pursue his thoughts elsewhere 


328 BELLE O' BECKET'S LANE. 

undisturbed, he found himself face to face with Donald 
Crandall, who, forgetful of both time and place, threw 
his arms about his neck and wept over him with that 
intensity of joy which the father feels whose son was 
dead but is alive again. 

“ Thank God ! thank God, ye still live ! I wull na 
ask ye noo where ye ha’ been this while, but I hope ye 
ha’ come to mak’ a lang stay wi’ us.” 

‘^No, no; I shall leave in an hour, Donald. God 
bless you.” 

An’ wi’out seein’ Margaret ?” 

I came to see her !” he cried, bitterly. She has 
not been out of my thoughts for years. I caught a 
glimpse of her to-day, — a partial glimpse, indeed, — but 
it opened my eyes to the fact that I had been dream- 
ing, — that I have been a poor, weak fool, Donald. 
My presence now would only annoy her, and hers 
would only serve to render me more miserable than I 
am. No, no ; I shall leave at once.” 

Ye shallna leave us in this way, mon,” said Crandall, 
with trembling voice. Ye maun gang hame wi’ me.” 

I thought I could do so when I came, but I find 
now that I cannot. There has been a great change in 
her since we separated, six years ago. She has grown 
better, doubtless, but — but she has grown away from 
me. She is no longer the poor girl of Becket’s Lane. 
It would be better, Donald, not to let Margaret know 
that I have been here; it might annoy her. I am 
quite sure it would annoy her. It is near my hour to 
leave. Maybe you will go with me to the boat ? My 
luggage is already there.” 


SHALLNA LEAVE US.’^ 


329 


I wall na gang wi’ ye” replied Donald, doggedly. 

I shall na so far acquiesce in thae grievous wrang ye 
do us an’ ye’rsel’ by turning ye’r back on thae auld 
frien’s wha ha’ lo’d ye as a son for so raony years.” 

Donald, you know in your heart that I respect and 
love you all. You must know this, my friend ; but 
the light which has flashed in upon me within the past 
six hours has put my own poverty and unworthiness in 
such sharp contrast with her wealth and merit that I 
feel — nay, I know absolutely — that for her sake, as well 
as my own, the sooner I leave this place the better ii 
will be for all. I have been in doubt for years, blinded 
maybe by my own passion, but my way seems clear 
before me now, and I shall follow it. If you will not 
go with me to the landing I must say good-by, for I 
have not time to tarry longer.” 

When Becket had disappeared in the darkness 
Donald spoke hurriedly to the driver, and entering the 
carriage was driven rapidly away. 

The coast-steamer going northward, although now 
very near the landing, was an hour late. The people 
W'ho' intended to take passage on it were standing in 
groups, beside trunks and bolxes, patiently awaiting its 
arrival. Stevedores were chatting and laughing mer- 
rily around great piles of freight deposited for ship- 
ment. A few smoky torches lighted up the scene in a 
doubtful way. When the steamer finally drew up to 
the shore, and a plank was thrown out, a carriage was 
driven hastily down to the water’s edge, and an eager, 
handsome face peered sharply from the open window. 
Soon a gentleman with an overcoat on his arm pressed 
28 * 


330 the belle O' BECHET’S LANE. 

forward toward the gangway, and a voice from the 
carriage called out, — ■ 

Mr. Becket 

The person thus addressed looked quickly up as if 
bewildered, and, recognizing Margaret, stood for a 
moment’ motionless and speechless. 

John,’^ she continued, in an authoritative way, to 
her servant, open the door for Mr. Becket, take 
charge of his baggage, then drive home.” 

Donald and his wife returned to the Becket home- 
stead in April, and settled down permanently on the 
farm. In the June following, old Tom Becket, with 
his wife and son, came North to spend the summer 
with them, and lingered there until the hazel grew 
brown again, and its tops bent low with the rich burden 
of ripened nuts. Friends, neighbors, and old school- 
mates, — all friends, in fact, dropped in from time to 
time to pass the quiet summer afternoons with Marga- 
ret, and there was *!bund no lack of genial company 
and cheerful conversation around old Donald’s hearth- 
stone. Often, indeed, and proudly at such times, would 
he, with quiet humor twinkling in his old gray eyes, 
refer to the time, now like a dream almost, when 
Margaret was the belle o’ Becket’s Lane. 


THE END. 


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» 

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These Novels are universally acknowledged to be among the 
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